


keep your eyes on the road

by oh_canada



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: 3RACHA, Alternate Universe - Car Racing, Alternate Universe - Formula One, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Han Jisung as Monster Rookie, Happy Ending, Lee Minho as Champion in a Slump, Light Angst, M/M, Mentions of Anxiety, Monaco Grand Prix, Okay so theres a little more than light angst, Plot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Racing, seungbin interlude chapters 14-17
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:53:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 122,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22359790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_canada/pseuds/oh_canada
Summary: Minho tried not to watch as Jisung climbed into his violently red car in front of him, wishing desperately that their suits weren’t moulded to their bodies. The tight red material pulled against Jisung’s torso, revealing a defined back and no doubt a defined front as well.He is not attracted to cute rookies. He is not attracted to cute rookies. He is-.  .  .  .Its been a year since the infamous Lee Know wiped out at a state F1 competition, and since then, he hasn't won a single race. It is crucial for both him and his manager, Kim Seungmin, that he makes it to the Monaco Grand Prix, or he could be out of business for good.Han Jisung is a monster rookie; he hasn't lost a race since he first started at the beginning of the year, but the hard work he puts into his wins is often not even credited to him. Chan, his mentor, was a legend, meaning the media claim that he is the reason for Jisung's success. Jisung wants to win the Monaco Grand Prix, and prove he is his own racer.When the two racers collide at the American Preliminaries, things get... interesting. Jisung can only hope this is sorted out by the finals, or he is well and truly screwed. Spoiler: He is well and truly screwed.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Kim Seungmin/Seo Changbin
Comments: 542
Kudos: 727





	1. Crash & Burn

**Author's Note:**

> yo what up *finger guns*

**A year earlier**

Minho’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. He couldn’t hear anything besides the sound of his car tearing down the track, the distant cheering of the small audience drowned out as he narrowed his feline eyes on number 72.

His race engineer’s emotionless voice crackles through the headset. Minho wished it had been Seungmin giving him the orders. “Lee, you need to box this lap.”

_ Like hell I do. _

He knew it would be a strategic move; pitting now would give him a small opening later on, given that number 72 eventually did the same, but it was a risk, and he was  _ so close _ .

He accelerated slightly, despite knowing that his tires wouldn’t be able to take much more of this pace. The rubber would burn off from the inside out. But he had to make the pass.

It was  _ easy _ . An easy win like always.

“Lee, box.”

Minho grit his teeth as the car roared, sticking to the inside as he inched closer. Every limb on his body was shaking with adrenaline as the pair spun around the corner. He didn’t even have to push the car this far. It was only a national event, but you can bet your top dollar that Minho was going to win it all the same.

“Box, BOX.”

It was when he pushed passed 72’s outer side that he heard it. The scream of his tires on the track before he felt the burn as though it was his own _ body _ pressed against the rubbery tar.

No, NO, NO.

Cliche as it was, when everything slid wildly out of control, all Minho could comprehend was the fact the world had slowed down. Pieces of carbon fibre seemed to hang suspended in the air as the car spun out, skidding across the grass in an almost soundless exit from the track. 

Minho’s head snapped forward as the back of his car collided with the barrier, destroying the expensive frame immediately. Half of the car was gone, just like that.

“LEE KNOW HAS HIT THE BARRIER-”

It all stopped at once, but then Minho felt the heat. He blinked dazedly at the start of the fire inside what was left of his rear end, his mind trying to process what it was. 

“Minho! Are you okay?”

His head spun as he croaked out a reply to Seungmin’s question. “Yeah, I’m okay but there’s fire, there’s a fire-”

“The crews heading there right now. They’ll help you out, just try and get out.”

Minho’s hands were quick to understand the request, shifting to the halo above his head as human shaped things run towards his car. His hands somehow cleared enough room between the halo and the frame for his shaking body to squeeze out of the car. The track swayed as he stepped out onto the tar, his entire body numb. 

Someone put a hand on his arm and spoke to him in a language he could normally understand. His head nodded as though it knew what was going on, but all Minho could pay attention to was his car.  _ His car _ .

It was doused in retardant, but he didn’t know why they even bothered. There was nothing left.

And if he hadn’t gotten lucky, there would be nothing left of him either.


	2. Monster Rookie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jisung nodded, an indignant expression pulling his plump lower lip into a pout. “Of course, why would I risk hurting 9 so close to such an important competition? What do you take me for, an animal?”
> 
> Changbin squinted at him. “You know, I’m not entirely sure that you aren’t.”
> 
> “Hey!”

“ _HAN JISUNG TAKES FIRST PLACE AGAIN! THE MONSTER ROOKIE HAS LEFT THE REST IN THE DUST!”_

Jisung braced his athletic frame on the sides of his car as he hoisted himself out almost effortlessly, the rush from the race amplifying his strength. He then proceeded to remove his red helmet and wink at the camerawoman.

Sure, Jisung would regret his cockiness when he had to rewatch the event later on, but right now, he let the crowds cheering get to his head.

Luckily, he was saved from his infamous tongue by Changbin, who rushed over with empty hands, but a reasonably satisfied expression. It was really hard to tell, because, you know, its Seo Changbin. The cameraman lowered the lens upon sight of Jisung’s crew chief and manager, aware that this was her signal to leave until interviewing later on.

Jisung ran a hand through his sweaty blonde hair and slid his tongue over his chapped lips as Changbin shouted clipped orders at the crew before turning back to the racer. 

“Are you feeling okay?”

A smug smile worked its way onto Jisung’s face. He wrapped an arm around his helmet, and set it on his hip. “Never better, Bin.”

Recognising the arrogance in his tone, Changbin rolled his eyes before chucking a cloth from his pocket at Jisung. Han caught it and used it to wipe his brow as he hummed in content, following Changbin back to the team tent as he replayed the last five minutes of the race in his mind.

It wasn’t a big deal, this race. The big deal was in a few weeks; the American Prelims of the Monaco Grand Prix. Jisung would, of course, place first in the qualifiers and semis in Austin, Texas and then move straight to the American Finals.

From there, it was off to Monaco, but right now Han was too busy enjoying the buzz of his easy win to think that far into the future. He sat down at the table at the back of the tent, not bothering to change out of his fitting red motor suit as he chugged whatever was in the bottle set out for him.

Artificial colours and flavours filled his mouth, and he swallowed quickly, nose wrinkling as he ditched the sponsors poisonous energy drink. When he was done glaring at the drink that had failed to quench his thirst, Jisung caught a glimpse of Changbin’s unattended bag and was quick to lean around the cold metal table to steal his manager’s water bottle. 

Moments after the theft, the victim re entered the room with the schedule for the rest of the day.

Changbin didn’t take his eyes off of the paper as he sat down. “So, Jisung, interviews are at four but you can take a breather until then.”

Jisung paused from sculling Changbin’s water for a moment, placing the bottle back on the table and wiping the moisture from his lips with the back of his hand. “What’s the time?”

Changbin raised his gaze from the paper and narrowed his eyes at Jisung. “Where’s the watch that FitBit gave you to wear?”

Jisung shrugged. “I dunno.”

Changbin groaned, sounding like an old man despite the fact he was only a few years older than Jisung himself. He threaded a few fingers through his black fringe. “You are going to be the death of me. I need a drink.”

“Like of beer or water? Cause I can’t exactly say I have either of those things.”

Changbin narrowed his dark eyes at the racer’s smirk before straightening up. His eyes found his drink bottle on the table. Knowing Jisung as well as he did, Changbin slumped onto the table in defeat, aware that it was far too late to save his water. “Jisunggg-”

Han snorted, his pretty face lit up with a mischievous grin that was far more childlike than his usual smirk. What can he say, bullying Changbin does wonders for your mental health. Jisung began to stand as he landed what he believed to be the killing blow. “Come on, Seo, pull yourself together.”

Rubbing his face, Changbin beckoned Jisung back with a lazy wave of his hand, ready for the day to be over. “Don’t leave, we have to talk about Monaco now so I don’t have to call you later.”

“Ughhhh, fine.”

Changbin straightened as Jisung actually sat back down, clearly not having anticipated the younger would listen but doing his best to make the most of the situation despite his frustration. 

He made sure to scowl out his next words. “With qualifiers and everything coming up, I’m gonna need you to lay off the track so we can fix up 9. You can do whatever you want with Chan, but use his car instead. Maybe take it to the Creek?”

Jisung nodded, an indignant expression pulling his plump lower lip into a pout. “Of course, why would I risk hurting 9 so close to such an important competition? What do you take me for, an animal?”

Changbin squinted at him. “You know, I’m not entirely sure that you aren’t.”

“Hey!"

. . .

Minho ran a hand through his dark, messy hair, pulling it back from his eyes so he could scan the private gym for the next step in the workout schedule. He glanced at the mirror in the corner, his reflection staring back at him with piercing eyes, judging even when Minho wasn’t. 

Minho raised an eyebrow, wondering just how vain people who work out here must be to feel the need to stare at themselves while doing so.

As Minho contemplated the thought patterns of the obnoxious racers he was forced to share this b-grade gym with, Hyunjin entered the room with a remote, a look of triumph decorating his handsome face. “I found it!”

Minho snorted as he located the treadmill, spurring his aching calf muscles into action now that his best friend was back. He adjusted the black singlet he was wearing, separating the clingy fabric from his abdomen as Hyunjin used the remote he found to turn on the TV above them.

Hyunjin eagerly flicked through the channels as Minho turned the rig on, the younger still loaded with energy due to the fact he had managed to avoid doing any actual exercise. Minho didn't blame him though; even _he_ found it difficult to keep up with the super intense Formula One training some days, and Hyunjin wasn’t even a racer. 

Minho almost rolled his eyes as he realised he was lucky he even got Hyunjin to leave his apartment. Hyunjin wasn’t exactly a… _compliant_ person.

Minho adjusted a few settings before stepping on to the awaiting treadmill and beginning his run.

Hyunjin hummed as he continued to browse. “Hey, did you hear about the race in Atlanta?”

Minho’s voice came out bouncy as he focused his attention on the data in front of him. “Uh, do I want to know?”

Hyunjin had apparently settled on a channel, as he had appeared on the mill next to Minho, tightening his hair band as he flicked it into a walking pace. He draped his upper half over the walkers, using them to lift himself off the ground. “I mean, probably not, but I have a gut feeling he’s going to be big competition in qualifiers.”

Minho’s nose scrunched up, and his toned arms worked a little more aggressively as the face of the rookie popped into his head. “Han won again, didn’t he?”

“Yup. By a landslide.”

His unnecessarily expensive sneakers squeaked as Minho turned up the pace on his treadmill. “You reckon he’s got skill? Or is it just the expensive car?”

Hyunjin tilted his head as he shrugged, offering the praise as though it was natural for him to give someone so much credit. Note; it was not. “I think he’s brilliant. He's one of the best I've seen in a long time, actually. But I guess we’ll see for real next week.”

Minho clenched his jaw, determination flooding his body. “Yeah.”

_Next week._

It would have been fine if the stakes weren’t so high, but the Monaco Grand Prix wasn’t just any state competition that he could get away with not placing. He had to push himself when the Prix started and he knew for certain that he wasn’t over the crash yet. 

At the rate he was headed, he doubted he was _ever_ getting over it.

Minho hadn’t lost any races, but he hadn’t placed first a single time since the crash. He was fine with the speeds, with the harsh corners and suffocating g-force, with the dodging between racers and overtaking backmarkers, but when it was just him and the car in front of him, he couldn’t bring himself to pass it. He couldn’t push himself that far. 

He paid the price last time.

A sweat now working up on his smooth forehead again, Minho rolled his shoulders and spoke with a slight bite in his tone. “I can do it. There’s no way I’ll lose to a rookie.”

Hyunjin cast a glance at him, a smile tugging at his lips. “No offense, Know, but it doesn’t make a difference whether he’s a rookie or not. He’s good, and might just beat you. You’re gonna need to pick up the pace, dude.”

Minho glared at his best friend. “Do you think I don’t know that?”

Hyunjin shrugged, and Minho didn’t fail to notice the way his legs tensed as though he was getting ready to run.

Minho hissed out his next words before Hyunjin could make his statement. “If you value your life, Hwang, you should tread carefully.”

Hyunjin raised his arms in surrender. “Okay, okay. I won’t say it.”

He bit his lip and proceeded to lower himself onto the treadmill again and started running.

“Yeah, that's what I thought.”

Hyunjin couldn’t stop his smile but he flipped a rather rude finger at Minho, who laughed for the first time that day.

. . .

The sun set above the Creek, casting streaks of orange across the sky and colouring the remaining clouds with a blush of pink. Pine trees towered around the small stone stadium, casting shadows onto the track with the aid of the fading light.

The wildlife seemed to have evacuated the area, as the only sound that could be heard in the early evening was the rumble of Jisung’s old stock car as he drifted across the finish line. He eased the car’s pace before it spun out, gritting his teeth as he skidded to a stop after doing a full 180. 

The fine layer of debris on the track had thrown the car off kilter, and if Jisung hadn’t stopped it in time, the car would have probably destroyed the fence for the second time in the last two months. Though the first was still entirely Chan’s fault.

Exhaling through his nose, Jisung relaxed his death grip on the steering wheel and smiled with relief before unstrapping himself from the seat. He left the car near the fence in the middle of the track, knowing no one else would use the old stadium in the time it took for him to walk to the garage and convince his mentor, Chan to take a break.

The breeze picked up as Jisung ducked under a low hanging pine tree branch, narrowly avoiding catching the edge of his puffy jacket on the brush. Something fell quietly in the distance, but Jisung still jumped, before shaking his head and continuing. He was only a _little_ bit skittish.

As he emerged from the treeline and crossed the empty car park, the sound of Chan working on his latest project became apparent, so much so that Jisung was surprised he didn't hear it earlier. 

Jisung poked his head around the garage doorway and cupped a hand to his mouth. "Chan! CHAN!"

The mechanic turned off the compressor, grinning at the sight of his friend. His dark curls were askew, ruffled from leaning over and under the stock car that was jacked up at the back. He was far stockier than he was when he used to race Formula One, but that didn't mean he couldn't teach Jisung better than any trainer ever could. 

Some rude presenters even go as far as to credit Chan for all of the rookie's abilities, which, although Jisung loved Chan immensely, never failed to upset Jisung. If Chan were ever to find out what the media said about Jisung's success, he would be on an endless warpath, not stopping until he was sure Jisung was safe. 

Chan was pretty cool. But deadly when you hurt someone he loved, especially Jisung. He loved the rookie like he was his own brother.

"Hey, Sungie! Taking Chrissie for a spin?"

Jisung nodded, feeling as though it was safe to enter now that the loud noise had stopped. "Yeah, man. You should come down as well."

Chan took one long look at the younger boy, a coloured silhouette against the fading sky and looking smaller than ever in a cropped puffer jacket and black jeans, and somehow figured out what Jisung was feeling.

A dimpled grin. "You nervous for tomorrow?"

"No.”

Chan remained silent, raising a patient brow at Jisung who had promptly began fidgeting. No one could lie to Chan. Jisung eventually subsided to the older’s gentle gaze, shrugging in a far from nonchalant way. 

“That’s a lie. I was hoping to get it out in the stadium but… I can't believe it's only two days till qualifiers! Everything is going so fast, and the car ride tomorrow is going to give me a long time to think about how maybe I'm not even that good and I am just lucky like they said and what if-"

"Sung."

Jisung rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, shy now that he had accidently spouted all of his insecurities. 

Chan drew Jisung to a hug, patting his back as he spoke to him. "You're a true hard worker, Sung, you’re beyond talented. The media is just desperately trying to come up with reasons for your skills because there isn't anyone like you."

It took all he had to stop himself from laughing. Jisung couldn't help it, it was just a nervous reaction.

"And all the way down to Texas, you can annoy Changbin to distract yourself. I'll cheer for you from the driver's seat."

Jisung pulled away to throw a half-hearted punch into Chan's shoulder. "Yeah, whatever, Coach. I'm gonna tell Changbin you want me to bug him."

Chan's warm eyes widen. "Wait, maybe don't do that. I'm sure Chang-"

Jisung replied in a singsong tone. "Nuh-uh-uh~ It's too late now, Channie. Changbin is going to be soooooo happy to see you tomorrow.”

“Oh man. I guess I’m screwed then.”

Jisung laughed, his ashy blonde hair bouncing on his forehead and strands of it slipping from its style. His eyes glittered with amusement as he waved for Chan to follow him. “Come on, you better make the last of your last night.”

Chan barely spared the vehicle he was working on a second glance, quick to grab his jacket and follow his friend down to the track.

Chan narrowed his eyes, which meant that Jisung had approximately 20 seconds to run back down to the stadium before he was turned into a tire for Chan's latest project.

They ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you guys enjoyed the first official chapter haha  
> sorry for lack of minsung, but trust me, we'll get there eventually ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) 
> 
> leave a comment for me to read, i crave validation and am a desperate attention seeker uwu  
> see y'all soon <3


	3. Road Trip Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jisung is woken up in the morning by Chan and Changbin screaming at him from outside. Its everybody's favorite part of the Championships; road trip time~

Chan shuddered the truck to a stop outside Jisung’s small but classy house at 1:00am the next day. He stuck his head out of the open window, and much to Changbin’s amusement in the passenger seat, shouted almost as loudly as the horn. 

“HAN JISUNG-” beep, “-WE NEED-” beep, “-TO GO-” beep, “-WAKE UP!”

Changbin could make out muffled exclamations of outrage inside the house, the echoey interior that Changbin knew well no doubt being the main factor in the trapping of Jisung’s protests. Moments later, the racer burst through the 2 metre tall silver entrance doors, his hair still ruffled from sleep and wearing a tight black t-shirt and… were those sweatpants?

Jisung slung his black duffle bag over his muscled shoulder, the other hand tending to his tired face as he approached the truck quickly but far from enthusiastically. He knew he shouldn’t have stayed up to watch the latest season of Queens 98, but he never felt motivated to filter his impulse thoughts when there was a race coming up. 

Changbin snorted as Jisung stumbled across the road, the early morning air not waking him up anywhere near as fast as it had woken up the two seated in the truck. 

Jisung shook his head dazedly, before raising a fist and knocking it repetitively on Changbin’s door, unable to see how his action was agitating the older in the low lighting. Changbin’s door swung open, and he climbed out, giving Jisung room to enter at the same time as scolding him. Changbin hissed. “Quit being so loud, Han-”

Jisung was outraged. “You two were literally just slamming the horn and screaming at me!”

Changbin froze for a second, realising the racer was right, before proceeding to pretend the epiphany had not existed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, hurry up and get in.”

Jisung’s sleepy face pulled in a frown of confusion, but he decided to dismiss his managers blatant acting and just get into the truck. It was way too early for this. 

Chan ruffled Jisung’s hair as he squeezed between the seats to climb into the back compartment of the cab. “Morning, Sungie. Sorry for the rude awakening, but we’re going to need all the time we can get. Austin is miles out.”

Jisung yawned, dumping his duffle bag and climbing up into the sleeper before answering. “How long will it take to get there from here in Orlando?”

Changbin joined them in the truck and slammed the door shut. Chan started everything back up again, an encouraging smile on his face. “Only 17 hours, nothing to worry about.”

That most certainly woke Jisung up. He sat up, pin straight, crashed his head into the roof, then groaned and collapsed back onto the bed. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Changbin slumped against the expensive black seat, pulling out his phone and earphones as he grumbled. “I wish I was, Jisung. It would life-changing to be able to avoid another road trip with you.”

Changbin was silenced with a pillow to the head, and was close to throwing it back when Chan scolded both of them, telling them they were distracting him from driving. Jisung took this opportunity to share with Changbin Chan’s words of comfort. “Oh, Changbin? Channie told me to annoy you as much as I want on this trip.”

Changbin twisted in his seat to glare up at where Jisung was smiling at him, snuggled into the sleeper. “Chan would _not_ say something like that.”

Jisung’s smirk appeared, and he propped his head up with a hand, sinking his elbow into the mattress so he could get a better view. “He did say it. Right, Channie?”

Chan laughed nervously. “Uh…”

. . .

Seungmin met Minho at the intersection down from his apartment, the truck already loaded and ready to go. Minho replied to the ‘good luck!’ text Hyunjin had sent him before pocketing his phone and climbing into the front of the small cab.

The radio was on quietly, Minho noted, but he highly doubted Seungmin was paying attention to it, as the younger was talking to someone through his phone as Minho made himself comfortable. Seungmin nodded a hello, smiling slightly as he scolded whoever he was communicating with. 

“We should be there in seven hours and a half, but if you can’t save the room, its okay. No really, it’ll be fine, man. Stop apologising- stop! You’ve done nothing wrong. Its _okay_. Hey, I have to get going now but I’ll see you in a couple days. Okay, bye for now.”

Minho rested his head against the glass of the window as Seungmin hung up before glancing at the racer. He raised an eyebrow at Minho’s general lack of enthusiasm. “Have you got everything?”

Minho shrugged, straightening to stretch his arms. “Yeah, I think so,” he tried not to act curious or interested, but he couldn’t help it, “who was that?”

Seungmin started up the truck, transferring his gaze from Minho to the road as he answered. His light brown hair shifted as he tilted his head. “One of my friends in Austin. He was going to let us stay at his house, but there were some new tenants looking to rent a room or two.”

Adjusting the collar of his white shirt, Minho couldn’t help but smile slightly. “He sounds cool.”

Seungmin laughed, flicking on his indicator as they approached another junction. “He is. The only thing that Juyeon can’t do is say no. He’s got a real big heart.”

Minho’s brow furrows slightly, flicking his focus back to the road. The red tail lights of the car in front of them were amplified by the dawn lighting. It was almost funny how small all of the other vehicles on the road appeared when compared to the giant F1 hauler. “There aren’t enough nice people left in this world.”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow, his eyes finding a road sign as he questions Minho. “Who pissed you off this time?”

Snapping his head towards Seungmin, Minho’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“Minho.”

Minho gave up on the act, slumping back into the grey seat. He sighed. “No one. I’m just not ready for this competition. And with stupidly good racers like Andrew Codaline, Jordan and _Han Jisung_ out there, I’m screwed before I even walk down to the track.”

Seungmin clicked his tongue. “Lee Know, Lee Know, where has your confidence gone to? You are just as good as those two, maybe even better. You’re a national treasure! Just because you’re going through a brief rough patch-”

“- brief, year long rough patch-”

“-does not mean that you are never going to win a single race ever again. Talent and training doesn’t disappear if someone is working as hard as you, Minho.”

Minho couldn’t help but smile a little, even if he didn’t fully believe the words coming from his managers mouth. “You’re just saying that cause you’re just as screwed as I am if I lose another race.”

Seungmin’s eyes glitter with amusement, the tell tale quirk of his lip letting Minho know he was joking. “Maybe just a bit.”

It didn’t take long for them to reach the city outskirts, approaching the highway that should allow a smooth ride all the way to Austin. Minho studied the silver road barriers out of his window, mesmerised by the way they never seem to end.

It was a peaceful silence in the truck, both of the pair lost in their own thoughts. Seungmin hummed quietly under his breath, a pretty melody that Minho subconsciously joined in on. His black hair was still ruffled from sleep, but as the day slowly grew warmer, Minho found his hair sticking to his forehead. 

Seungmin had made the unwise choice of wearing a navy blue sweater, a decision for which he suffered greatly. But he managed to endure it until they reached Lafayette, two and a half hours into their journey from New Orleans to Austin.

“Oh, thank _god_.”

Seungmin tugged the sweater over his head, and Minho shielded his face as it pulled up Seungmin’s grey shirt at the same time. “Ew.”

Seungmin tilted his head up, chucking his sweater onto the seat next to him in the cafe they had stopped for brunch in. “Oh grow up, Minho. Plus, I’m sure you’d be happy to see my abs.”

Minho pulled a disgusted face as Seungmin wiggled his eyebrows and patted his stomach. “Yeah, you wish, toad.”

“Two iced americanos, strawberry and chocolate waffles and... scrambled eggs and toast?”

Seungmin’s expression quickly transitioned back to its professional form, offering the waitress a polite smile. “Yes, that’s us. Thank you.”

She smiled, tucking a red curl behind her ear. She set the dishes on the table before heading back into the kitchen area, presumably to get the drinks. Minho eyed his plate hungrily, ignoring whatever Seungmin was saying to him as he dug in.

It took Seungmin a few minutes of talking to realise he wasn’t getting any response than the occasional ‘uh huh’. He paused, considering repeating himself, but then the waitress set the coffees on the table and he was just as distracted as Minho.

“We’ll discuss this later.”

. . .

It wasn’t until 12:00 am that Chan finally gives up his spot in the driver’s seat, only doing so because Jisung says he’s a danger to them all if he can’t keep his eyes open. Jisung also managed to convince Changbin that they should stop in a breakfast bar in Lafayette, but to be fair it wasn’t too difficult as the three had been living off protein bars for the past eleven hours and hungry, tired Chan was something neither of the younger two wanted to deal with.

Jisung threw himself down against the plush silver seats in the corner of the cafe, leaving Changbin with no choice but to lead drowsy Chan that way as well. 

“I wonder if they have cheesecake…”

Changbin rolled his eyes. “Are you _really_ gonna start your day with protein bars and cheesecake?”

Jisung narrowed his eyes at Changbin, using the menu to lightly slap his managers arm. “For you information, I would have started my day with a natural smoothie if you hadn’t woken me at _fucking midnight_.”

Chan hummed sleepily as he lifted his head from Changbin’s shoulder to slip the menu out of Jisung’s hands. “You could always buy one here.”

Jisung crossed his arms, fidgeting with his short sleeves and unknowingly exposing his biceps as though the dark shirt was sleeveless. He regretted wearing sweatpants, because man is it hot. “Nope, it’s too late for that. I want cheesecake.”

A young woman with a notebook approached their table, her curly red hair tied back from her face. Her eyes widened when she saw Jisung, and she swallowed quickly. “Uh, c-can I help you?”

Jisung perked up instantly, his face resembling an excited puppy’s. “Yes! Can I get an iced chocolate and a slice of strawberry cheesecake?”

“Y-yup, got it. Um, anything else?”

Chan raised his hand as though he was in a classroom, before he looked at it in confusion, as though he hadn’t noticed he was raising it. “Uh, yeah, can I get the breakfast combo? Extra bacon?”

Changbin sighed. “I’ll just get a black coffee, please.”

Jisung glared at him from across the table, before turning to the lady. “Could I get a bacon bagel as well then?”

The waitress scribbled down the orders as fast as she could, before checking them with the trio again. When the order was confirmed, she turned to leave, before hesitating and spinning back towards the table. She cleared her throat and all three pairs of eyes found her again. 

“You’re the monster rookie, right? H-han Jisung?”

Jisung smiled at her, the grin reaching his cheeks as a small dimple appeared on his face. “Yeah, thats me.”

She couldn’t help the manic smile growing on her face. “Oh that's cool, you're the second racer we’ve had here today.”

Changbin snapped to attention at that. His slit dark eyebrow raised. “Oh? Who else stopped here?”

“Uh, I think his name is… hmm… Lee Mei? No that’s not it…”

Jisung filled the gap. “Lee Minho, right?”

She nodded. “Yeah, that’s him!”

Chan’s stomach growled, interrupting the exchange and reminding the waitress of her duties. She disappeared into the kitchen as Changbin frowned at Jisung. 

“Lee Minho?”

Chan spoke up. “He’s from Louisiana. He was world champ for a while, right Sungie?”

Jisung nodded, a contemplative look on his face. “Yeah. He was _really_ good as well. But he wiped out hard last year, destroyed his car and everything. He got out of it uninjured, but he hasn’t done well since then. I haven’t heard his name for a while.”

Absorbing the information, Changbin leaned forward on the table, addressing Jisung. “You think he’s big competition?”

Jisung met Changbin’s eyes for a millisecond, before looking at Chan, who shrugged. Jisung then shrugged, copying his mentor. “He still has skill, but I’d say I’m at _least_ his equal, probably better. I’ll keep an eye on him though, Binnie.”

Changbin accepted the nickname, nodding before relaxing into his seat. “Cool.”

“Black coffee?”

The dark prince himself straightened and raised his hand slightly. “Yeah, that’s me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3racha? uwu  
> Seungmin and Minho? uwu  
> hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, sorry again for lack of minsung, i know its what the people want but this one is a slow burn  
> first interaction happens next chapter, but remember whats in the tags enemies -> lovers -> friends -> lovers  
> yup its a bumby ride
> 
> chuck me a comment dudes, dudettes and duus cause i love hearing y'alls ideas and thoughts <3


	4. Road Trip Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Minho and Seungmin exit Houston, they realise how late they are, right before recognising the black truck behind them.

After Jisung played _Say No To This_ for the eighth time, Changbin decided it was his turn to drive and consequently, get rights to the radio. Chan sat up on the bedding in the back, his earphones plugged into this laptop as he rifled through folders and folders of his music. 

“Okay, we’re stopping.”

Jisung paused from his singing for a moment. “What?! But we’re not even in Houston yet!”

Changbin shook his head. “Too bad, I’m not listening to this shit any longer.”

Jisung rolled his eyes at his manager, but pulled over anyways, doing his best to ignore the stares they were earning from the public of Beaumont as the giant racing truck came to a stop in a bus bay. 

The transition was quick, but not quick enough for them to avoid being honked at by the bus waiting to pull in behind them. Changbin glanced in the rearview mirror before pulling out onto the road, exhaling only when they exited the town. 

Jisung sulked when Changbin changed to an actual music station, turning to Chan so his mentor would complain with him. Chan didn’t hear the first three times the younger called for him, prompting Jisung to unbuckle and climb into the bed compartment despite Changbin’s protests.

Chan tugged his headphones off as Jisung sat down next to him, the younger looking fine despite the fact it was like 600 degrees in the front seat. “Hey, Sung, whats up?”

Jisung opened his mouth to complain, but he decided against it, now far more interested by whatever Chan was doing. “Nothing much. Watcha doing?”

“Oh, I had some ideas after we stopped at the cafe, so I just wanted to demo them, and I guess I got a bit carried away.”

Jisung looked at the time-stamp, only needing to see that the track Chan was working on was ten minutes long to agree. “All good, man. Can I hear it?”

Chan smiled at Jisung. “Sure.”

He chucked his headphones at him and Jisung actually managed to catch them with some amount of grace. Chan hit play once Jisung tidied his hair enough to slip them on over his ears. 

Chan stepped forward over the centre console as Jisung became absorbed in the music, joining Changbin in the burning front seat and savouring the fresh air and the new music playing on the radio. He occasionally cast glances in the rear view mirror to watch Jisung tap his fingers in time with the music. 

Changbin smiled fondly at Chan. “He’s really something, huh?”

Chan looked at his best friend, his eyes amused. “Yeah, that’s for sure. But so are you, Bin.”

Changbin quickly transferred his gaze back to the road. “Yeah, yeah whatever dude. You’re great as well, but enough of that.”

Laughing quietly, Chan continued. “You’re also really cool looking, Bin, and you’re great at everything and-”

Easily flustered by compliments, Changbin slapped a hand over Chan’s mouth leaving his other hand on the steering wheel as a blush rose in his cheeks. “Chan. Do you want to die?”

Chan snorted, licking Changbin’s hand, who wrenched it away in disgust. “Ew, what the fuck?!”

Before the bickering could escalate, Jisung tugged the headphones of his ears. “Yo, Chan! This is sick. You gonna let Changbin and I rap to it?”

Chan shrugged, clearly teasing Jisung as they met eyes in the rearview mirror. “Maybe.”

Jisung cocked an eyebrow. “Okay then, Channie, out of my seat.”

Chan surrendered immediately.

Jisung fiddled with the dashboard of fancy settings, until he found something that would cool down the back compartment for Chan. The older immediately thanked him, air conditioning being enough to brighten anyone’s mood.

Changbin glanced at the time as they entered Houston, and was delighted to see they were ahead of schedule. “Hey, its only 2:50!”

Chan was brought back to attention by that, narrowing his eyes at Changbin from where he was sprawled across the mattress. “Changbin, have you been speeding?”

Changbin raised his fingers, putting a miniscule distance between them. 

That was enough for Chan to try and win back the front seat. “Changbin, if you crash, I’ll delete _all_ of your mixtapes.”

Changbin rolled his eyes, but eased off the accelerator as Jisung barely contained his laughter beside him.

Resting his arms behind his head, Jisung leaned back in the chair, wishing that it was later on in the day. He just _knew_ that there was going to be a pretty sunset, but he would probably want to go to sleep as soon as he got to the hotel at this rate.

It was nice though. Going on a roadtrip with his best friends helped ease his nerves. It made him feel as though everything was going to pan out just right. 

He stretched his legs, as best as he could in the cab, before glancing out the window and admiring the plain urban landscape of Houston. Yeah, there wasn’t much to admire, but Jisung was in a good mood.

. . .

“Minho, get your head back inside the truck.”

Minho pouted as he slumped back into his seat, his white short-sleeved shirt settling back around his collar bones. He then tilted his head back and let out a loud groan. “Seungmin, what am I supposed to do? The truck’s air conditioning is _broken._ ”

Seungmin rolled his eyes. “That does not give you the right to behave like a dog.”

“Hey, you know I’m a cat person.”

Seungmin laughed at Minho, glancing at the other’s face in amusement, before noticing the edge of Houston out of the reasonably clear front window. “Woah, we’re finally out of Houston.”

Minho paused from his sulking to straighten and check the time on the clock ingrained into the dashboard. His eyes widen in surprise. “3:00?! We’re running so late!”

Shrugging, Seungmin spoke slowly, clearly intending to annoy the older. “I mean, if you hadn’t asked to stop for the eighth time in Beaumont, then maybe we wou-”

Minho punched his manager in the shoulder. “Ya! You wanted to stop as well.”

Seungmin shied away from Minho’s hand as he went to punch him again, grinning. “Okay, okay, fair enough.”

As the playful bickering faded back into pleasant quiet, Minho stretched, before catching sight of the freeway up ahead. He let out a sigh of relief. “So we won’t be too late then?”

“Yeah, we should arrive at 5:00ish. I booked us a motel for the next two nights, but we’ll move into the hotel after prelims, when some of the racers leave.”

Minho nodded, realising just how tired he was. Seungmin must have had it worse, but then it hit Minho that they had only been driving for 6 hours. He wondered how other racers were doing, journeying from distant states and having to travel all night to arrive on time. He supposed he was lucky.

Seungmin frowned into the rear view mirror on the side of the truck. “Is that…?”

Minho hummed. “Sorry?”

As though offering an answer itself, as Minho questioned Seungmin’s lack of sentence, his attention was drawn to a truck behind them. It was far bigger than Minho’s silver hauler and was progressively gaining on them.

It took seconds for Minho to freeze up at the sight of it, more specifically, the obnoxious number 9 printed on its black canvas side. _Han._

The indistinguishable driver apparently flicked on an indicator, as the F1 hauler transferred into the late beside their’s, lining up next to the smaller hauler perfectly, whether intentionally or otherwise. Minho caught sight of a young guy in the driver's seat, quickly identifying him as Han’s manager, Seo Changbin. And in the passenger's seat was the racer himself, and he was not watching the road. 

His eyes were on Minho.

Minho’s first reaction was to retract into his seat, until he realised that he had the opportunity to intimidate the rookie. His next reaction was to lean forward it again with renewed confidence and ask Seungmin to wind down his window.

Seungmin struggled with his morals and his natural need for chaos, before deciding to play it nice. “No, Minho. They’ve probably been driving all night. Han lives in Orlando, and he’s only had two days to rest and recover after his win in Atlanta.”

Minho rolled his eyes, resorting into sticking his tongue out at Jisung, who was still watching him curiously from the truck next door. The rookie blinked in surprise, before his brows furrowed and he returned the childish action. 

He then turned to his manager, who was probably informed of Minho’s actions, as Changbin then wound down Jisung’s window. Recognition washed over the managers face when he saw Seungmin in the driver's seat.

“HEY, KIM SEUNGMIN!”

Seungmin groaned, rubbing a hand over his face at the sound of the familiar, rough voice, that was somehow so loud it could be heard over the sound of the road racing beneath them. He wound down his window further, without moving his eyes from the license plate of the car in front of the silver F1 hauler. Then he muttered something under his breath. “This is _your_ fault, Minho.”

“KEEP YOUR CLIENT IN CHECK!”

Seungmin replied, his voice naturally sharp, and he had raised it enough for Changbin and Jisung to hear it clearly. “YES SIR SEO.”

Seo Changbin looked outraged, but a hand from somewhere behind the driver's seat found its way to his shoulder, and judging by the defeated look on Changbin’s face, that was the end of the conversation. 

Minho smirked, taking the conclusion of the exchange as a win despite the fact it clearly wouldn’t have ended in their favour if mystery person hadn’t stepped in. He then made the mistake of glancing back at the racer in the passenger seat. 

Jisung was laughing hard, his eyes squeezed closed and his tousled blonde hair ruffling in the air of the opened window as he folded in half. 

Minho’s lips parted slightly in awe.

Changbin wound up the window of the sleek black truck before taking off, accelerating so the trucks were separated again. Seungmin pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know if you want enemies, Minho, but you’re sure doing a good job of making them.”

Minho snapped back to the present, forgetting about what he had been staring at immediately. He slouched into his seat, folding his arms over his chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Han doesn’t hate me, his manager does. By the way, how do you know that guy?”

“None of your business.”

Minho’s curiosity was sparked and Seungmin felt himself die a little inside. “Oh!?”

“NO, Minho.”

Minho smirked, leaning against the door of the cab. “Okay, don’t tell me now. I’ll figure it out eventually, Seungmo.”

Seungmin sighed knowingly. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyYYYyy  
> so they met... kinda  
> it was a mess but so is stray kids, lets be honest  
> thank you guys for reading this far!!
> 
> i also want to thank you guys for the attention i got on that other short story i posted two days ago, cause i was not expecting it to do well, cause this one isn't even though its very time consuming. but i shall keep going! We dont give up in this household!


	5. Put You in Your Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An argument takes place in the tents merely an hour before the race, and Prelims end with some expected and some unexpected results.

Jisung tucked his hair behind his ears as he descended down the stairs, his heart in his throat as he followed Changbin to their violently red racer tent. It wouldn’t be long before the camera crew arrived to take a pre-race interview, and then after that, he had half an hour to prepare with his team before the race began.

It was when he saw the silver tent beside theirs that his limbs completely froze up. Fantastic. They were right next to the team Changbin had argued with two days ago.

“Jisung, hurry up.” 

Snapping back to attention, Jisung jogged down the final stairs to catch up to his manager, who was apparently still oblivious to the issue. Jisung decided to not ruin Changbin’s mood, though he knew his friend was going to figure it out sooner or later. Surely, he wasn’t _that_ blind.

Changbin tugged his Crew Chief windbreaker up higher around his neck, mumbling something about how red was a stupid colour, before they enter the tent through a flap in the back. Jisung set his cap back onto his head as the crew members look up at them.

Changbin cleared his throat, and it was almost humorous to see the looks of respect that the people in the tent gave him, considering he had little to no authority when it came to Jisung. The racer hid his smile as the older began to hand out orders.

“...they’ve set up everyone into positions based on wins during the season, as Formula 1 America has decided they don’t want to waste time with polesitters, so it’ll be on you and Beckett to arrange transport with the officials. Get _9_ down to the track. First place, got it?”

The girl’s blue eyes widened as Changbin waited for his answer, before nodding quickly and joining the others down by the car at the front of the tent. Jisung rolled his eyes, before slumping down at the plastic table and tilting his head back far enough to admire the semi-transparent red roof, but not so far that he lost his cap.

Changbin turned back to him after five minutes of non-stop talking, and narrowed his eyes. “Are you nervous?”

Jisung tapped his fingers on his bicep, which was coated in his tight red racer suit, tracing the outline of a sponsor’s logo before replying. “No. I just don’t want to be interviewed before the race. I… yeah.”

Changbin sighed, slumping into the chair next to Jisung’s. He wanted badly to be able to tell Jisung that he could cancel the interview, but it wasn’t his choice to make. “I’m sorry, Sungie, you have to. I can get them to keep it short though, if that makes a difference.”

Jisung offered Changbin a grateful smile, his tone far softer than usual, doing nothing to calm Changbin’s worry for him. “Thanks, man.”

A slight breeze blew into the large tent, causing the papers laid out on the table to flip, threatening to fly off the edge. Jisung slammed his hand down onto the stack, but his moment of success was interrupted by a cool voice.

“Seo Changbin.”

Both men seated at the table, turned their heads to find the source of the words, and it took Jisung seconds to realise that the person talking was the racer from next door, Lee Minho. The one who had poked his tongue out at him, and then earned the gesture back. Jisung shrunk into his seat and shielded his face, hoping that Minho hadn’t seen him yet.

A frown was quick to replace the sympathy on Changbin’s face, and he got to his feet, looking intimidating despite the fact he was clearly shorter than the newcomer. “Who are you?”

Minho laughed, a floaty sound that would have probably made Jisung flush if he wasn’t so busy trying to figure out where the closest exit was. He didn’t want to be roped into any of Changbin’s drama.

“Lee Minho, car number 98, representative for Louisiana. Nice to meet you.”

Changbin ignored the extended hand. “What can I do for you, number 98?”

Minho ran a hand through his black hair, causing his grey body suit to tighten around his chest. Jisung was close to the doorway now, his cap pulled down over his face as he walked quickly towards the flap he and Changbin had entered through.

“You know my manager, Kim Seungmin? May I ask how you know him?”

Jisung paused, gritting his teeth as he contemplated staying if it meant Changbin’s mysterious 6-month manager training was exposed. It had never mattered to him before, but if Lee Minho got to know… he felt like he should be able to know as well.

Changbin’s intimidating aura faltered for a second, but he recovered quickly, his chin tipping up as he squared his jaw. “I don’t think that’s any of your business, number _98_. If you aren’t here on professional business, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Minho’s smile fell a little, before his eyes were finally drawn to Jisung’s retreating figure. He tilted his head to the side. “Han Jisung? Monster rookie? Do you know anything about Seungmin?”

Jisung winced, before slowly turning back, not bothering raising his black cap. “I think you should respect my manager’s wishes.”

“Jeez, I didn’t expect such a cold reception here. Can’t we be friends?”

Changbin raised an eyebrow. “If I remember correctly, _you_ were the one who started all this.”

Minho sighed. “I didn’t mean to; it was just reflex! Maybe I just wante-”

Jisung pulled a face, taking off his cap so he could meet eyes with the other racer. His blonde hair fell into his eyes, but he didn’t pay it any mind, more focused on Minho’s pretty face. “You stuck your tongue out at your competition due to a _reflex_? How old are you?”

“Older than _you_.”

Jisung’s eyes widened in shock of Minho’s reply before he narrowed them again. “Look, Lee Know, I didn’t come here to argue like a pair of teenagers. I came here to _win_.”

Minho’s smile was challenging, provoking. “Kid, I don’t want to be the one to break it to you, but you _are_ a teenager.”

“AND? Age doesn’t matter! I still win races more races than _you._ ”

Lowering his face slightly to Jisung’s, Minho spoke in a hushed tone, irritation apparent on his face. “It seems as though it's time someone put you in your place, rookie.”

At this point, all of Jisung’s nerves about the interviewers coming were forgotten, his veins filled adrenaline from simply arguing. Despite his growing anger, he managed a smirk, not moving his face away from Minho’s. “I’d like to see you try.”

Changbin decided this had gone far enough, placing a hand on Han’s shoulder. “Okay, Lee, get out of my tent before I call security.”

Jisung buzzed with annoyance as Minho leaned away, smiling as though he had won the argument. “You’re going fucking down, Han.”

Jisung barked out a laugh. “We’ll see.”

When Minho disappeared from view, no doubt back to the tent next door, Jisung deflated. He leaned against Changbin’s arm. “Damn, arguing is tiring. Can you hold off the paparazzi while I come up with an excuse to leave?”

Changbin shook out his head, brushing Jisung off his shoulder with a single movement of his hand. Jisung stumbled into a seat. “We _just_ talked about this, Sungie. And… are we going to ignore what just happened? Isn’t Lee Minho the world champion? And you just challenge him directly?”

“ _Was_ the world champion. And he challenged me first!”

Changbin pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling sharply. “Jisung. We are not in kindergarten. This is a _dangerous_ sport. Not a game.”

Jisung’s red hot anger cools instantly, as though Changbin’s statement was water, and the words that came out of his mouth next were the damp steam escaping the dying embers. “I’m sorry.”

Changbin shook his head, his dark eyes sympathetic again. His windbreaker rustled as he placed his arm on Jisung’s shoulder and rested his hand on the back of the youngers neck. “Don’t apologise to _me,_ Sungie. I hate to say it, but you’ve gotta apologise to that douche. And it's his responsibility to apologise as well. I can’t have you getting hurt over such a dumb argument.”

Jisung squeezed his eyes shut. “Okay. I’ll-”

“Hello, is this Han Jisung’s tent? Oh! Mr Seo, right?”

Changbin dropped his arm from Jisung’s shoulder as the interviewer and camera crew waltzed in. He lowered his voice. “Fuck. I guess you’ll have to do it after the race. But I’ll talk to Seungmin for you after the race, okay?”

Jisung ran his teeth over his lip, a nervous action, and nodded.

“Yes, that’s us.”

The interviewer beamed. “Fantastic! This’ll only take a minute!”

. . .

“HELLO AND WELCOME EVERYONE TO THE AMERICAN PRELIMINARIES OF THE MONACO GRAND PRIX!”

The crowd roared with excitement, everyone watching as each state representative shifted into their designated starting positions.

“At the very front, with 10 wins this season alone, is Atlanta Rep and monster rookie, Han Jisung! On his left wing is veteran and two-time national champion, Jordan Allens of Montana!

In third is Texas Rep and crowd favourite Andrew Codaline, participating in the American Prelims for the third time!!”

The presenter was leaned over his desk in anticipation, clearly invested in the participants. The woman sat next to him glanced down at her papers, presumably checking for any other statements to make before the race began.

She cleared her throat, before smiling at the camera in typical showman style. “Other names to look out for include Jamie Liang, Georgia Rep, and the elusive Louisiana Rep Lee Know, who had quite the reputation last year. Okay, everyone join us for the countdown!”

Five. Four. Three. Two

One.

The line of formula one cars lurch forward, untethered and eager. They all remain in a group, a cluster of colours and sponsors that gain speed as they turn collectively onto the first straight.

“And they’re off! Would you look at that! Lee Know is already making a pass; Louisiana is in 20th place.”

The woman presenter tucked a strand of her light purple hair behind her ear, adjusting her headset as she studied the race in interest. “Han holds the front position, but it appears as though Codaline is taking second place! Texas is up only a minute into the race!”

The fiery red car known to be Han Jisung’s clung to the inner corners of the track, making fast work of anything that was thrown it's way. No one in the crowd could begin to imagine how much energy Han was using just to maintain his position.

He sucked in another breath as the g-force eased off, his muscles tense, and his hearing fuzzy as he tore around another corner. His chest heaved, as although he spent endless amounts of hours training, racing was still unbelievably taxing. Humans just aren’t meant to be moving this fast.

Which is exactly why Han loves it. Defying expectations is his specialty.

“Arkansas Rep climbs to tenth after overtaking Liang, and Lee Know makes a series of passes! Where has this been all season? Maybe the racer is going to have the comeback we are all waiting for!”

Minho’s silver car rocketed into the top ten, earning a cheer from older fans. Maybe this _was_ his chance to get back on the leader board.

It was ten minutes or so into the race, near the end of the second lap that Changbin’s voice crackled through Jisung’s headset, a welcomed change from the endless sound of tires against tar.

“ _Jisung, box this lap. You’ve got the gap nailed down._ ”

Jisung grinned, his hands attached to the steering wheel as though it was just an extension of his body. Changbin complimenting him would _not_ go unmentioned after the race. “Okay, Cap.”

The greasy man in the presenting chair speaks up again. “It looks as though Han is pitting! A smart decision, Codaline’s too far back to undercut him. Odds seem to be in the rookie’s favour today at the American Preliminaries!”

Jisung’s car came to a stop in front of his trackside tent and the crew surrounded him instantly, making all necessary adjustments in seconds, as expected of an award-winning team. Jisung grit his teeth as he pressed the accelerator, able to tell that he had less time than he thought as the second placer swerved into the pit lane.

He took off again, joining the other cars back on the track faster than the recommended speed, but Jisung had unnatural control over his car, not appearing unstable even for a moment. A breath of relief echoed through his tent. Changbin released his hold on his chest. “ _Good job, Jisung_.”

“Montana, Texas, Washington and Arkansas are pitting, and oh- Louisiana as well! Probably a good call on his crew’s behalf, as Lee doesn’t exactly have a good reputation with boxing, does he, Moonbyul?”

The purple-haired woman seated next to the main presenter’s face was tainted with disgust. Her tone was disapproving. “That’s not something you should be joking about, Cal.”

He adjusted his mic, clearing his throat. “Right, sorry. Oh! Would you look at that! Lee undercut sixth and fifth placers! He’s in fifth!”

Jisung spun around the sharp turn a little looser than he wanted to, and his grip on the steering wheel tightened. He couldn’t hear where Codaline was behind him, and it was at times like these he wished he could hear the MC’s. It would help to know how far ahead he was.

The marbles on the next corner were deadly, and Jisung was lucky he noticed them in time, pulling around the corner _tight_ on the inner side. Apparently, Codaline hadn’t noticed them.

“OH! Texas Rep, Andrew Codaline has drifted on the marbles- oh he’s okay! He’s lost his spot though, dropping to seventh. LEE KNOW MAKES A PASS! IT’S THE FINAL LAP EVERYONE!”

Han lapped the backmarker, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he joined the cluster again. It was harder now that there were other cars, but nothing he couldn’t handle.

“Han Jisung has passed number 26! He’s well and truly a racer to watch! WAIT! It looks as though Lee and Jordan are gaining on him! Only two minutes left folks!”

As he dodged around a lime green car, finding his place in the front again, an unwanted thought ran through Jisung’s head; _Where is Minho?_

He hadn’t passed him. Did that mean he was right behind him?

Jisung tore onto a straight, knowing he was going to grow paranoid if he didn’t find out. “Changbin! Where is Lee?”

Changbin’s mouth dropped open at the out of place request. But he knew Jisung couldn’t see him, so he answered sharply. “ _He’s second, Han. Maybe 14 seconds. Focus_.”

Jisung knew he couldn’t show how concerned he was about the other racer’s ability, so he stopped talking. The presenters were known to broadcast race engineer and racer conversations, hence why he needed to keep it to a minimum.

“Han Jisung is leading the pack again! Only a few turns and he’ll be straight to the finish line! Wait, is that Lee Know!? LEE HAS JOINED HAN IN THE FRONT! CAN HE CATCH UP?”

There it was. Right there. Jisung’s chest heaved with adrenaline, and he eased off the accelerator, abiding Changbin’s order of ‘ _lift and coast_ ’.

He counted down in his head, a grin splitting across his face as his heart rate soared.

Five. Four. Three. Two.

One.

“MONSTER ROOKIE HAN JISUNG HAS WON THE AMERICAN PRELIMINARIES BY 4 SECONDS, WITH A RECORD TIME OF 12 MINUTES AND 43 SECONDS! LEE KNOW COMES IN SECOND, JORDAN ALLENS THIRD…”

. . .

Jisung’s head was spinning as he walked away from his car, his smile hurting his cheeks as he tugged off his helmet. Changbin was waiting, a proud smile tugging at his own lips.

Jisung paused for a moment, standing a few feet from Changbin. He straightened his face. “Well, would you look at that. I did it, Race Engineer.”

Changbin cast a quick glance around the tents area, before launching forward and embracing Jisung’s aching frame. Jisung laughed, wrapping his arms around his best friend.

Changbin’s words were soft. “I’m so proud of you, Sung.”

Jisung broke the hug but left his arm around Changbin’s shoulder, firstly because he loved Changbin, but secondly because he felt as though if someone tapped him too hard, his jelly legs wouldn’t be able to hold him up.

Changbin understood.

The crew watched in awe as Jisung wobbled back into the tent, silence coating the room for a few moments before they broke into applause.

“Han, that was brilliant!”

“How do you _do_ it, man? Passed all those backmarkers?”

“Lee Know really thought he was going to pass you and then you just left him in the dust!”

“You literally held first the _entire_ time.”

Jisung smiled weakly at everyone, grateful for the compliments and congratulations, but he would prefer to talk to Changbin alone. The older seems to understand that as well, speaking Jisung’s mind.

“Okay guys, thank you all for your awesome work today. I hope the clean-up is quick and easy. Take care of 9 for us.”

After a few final pats on the back, the crew move back down to the track, leaving Jisung and Changbin alone to break down the race. It probably wasn’t _great_ for Jisung to do these immediately after every big race, but he forced Changbin into it anyways.

Changbin chucked a black shirt at Jisung, who promptly peeled his motor suit from his upper half and dragged it over his heavy head. Changbin averted his eyes, pulling a face, and would have made a rude comment if he couldn’t tell that Jisung was exhausted.

When Jisung was suitably covered, his manager spoke again, rolling up his own sleeve as he recognised just how hot it had gotten. “You did well today, Sung. There shouldn’t be much to breakdown later on, you don’t have to do it no-”

Jisung was already seated at the table, happy to be relieved of the top half of his constricting suit, looking tired but certain. “Nope. Let’s do it now.”

Changbin rolled his eyes, pulling two transparent water bottles from a cooler before making his way over to Jisung. “I’m so glad there aren’t interviews today. You’re going to really burn yourself out if you continue at this speed.”

Accepting the bottle, Jisung kicked his feet up onto the table. He screwed the lid off slowly, tilting his head back to shift his blonde hair from his face. His skin glistened golden despite the odd lighting, the afternoon struggling to power through the roof of the red tent. “Don’t worry too much, Binnie. I know when to ease off.”

Changbin sighed, smiling. “Yeah, I know. You’re just really dumb sometimes.”

“Hey! I thought you were being _nice_.”

Placing his phone on the plastic tabletop, Changbin opened up the live replay, sufficiently shutting Jisung up.

After watching the race in silence, aside from the odd comment about control on a corner or suitable use of complex breaking, they reached the segment where Codaline spun out on the marbles.

Jisung winced at the noise of dirty tires, marvelled at the way Codaline picked himself back up, but then he noticed Minho’s silver car. The presenters had paid him lots of attention during the race, and Jisung was beginning to see why.

“How did he make so many risky passes like that?”

Chnagbin looked at Jisung, puzzled. “Who?”

Jisung’s eyes widen and he points to Minho’s silver car is it claims third place. “Minho! I knew he was good, but is he as good as me?”

Changbin pursed his lips as he analysed Minho’s driving. “He _was_ a world champion. I think he’s a bigger risk than we thought, Sung.”

Jisung’s shaking hands clenched into fists, and he exhaled. So Minho was pretty, really mad at him _and_ scarily good. “Okay. Cool, cool, cool.”

They studied up until the very end of the race, when Jisung drifted across the finish line, with Minho 4 seconds behind him. Minho had been capable of passing him.

Why didn’t he make the pass?

“Anyways,” Changbin shut the tab with his free hand, taking a swig of his water before continuing, “we need to get back to the hotel. You need to sleep.”

Jisung went to protest, but his arms were too floppy to grab Changbin. He gave in. “Yeah, okay then.”

As they walked back to the truck, Changbin not only carrying his bag _and_ Jisung’s but also Jisung himself, Jisung remembered what Changbin had said about apologising for that dumb argument.

He lifted his head, squinting slightly in the sunlight. “Hey Bin? Did you talk to Minho’s manager? Seungjin?”

Changbin corrected him, resting Jisung on the side of the black car as he loaded the bags into the boot. Jisung didn't notice the small smile on his manager's face. “Seungmin. Yeah, he wasn’t too bothered. He did promise that he would talk to Minho about boundaries though. This is the first time he’s acted out like this in a while, apparently.”

Jisung made an interested noise in the back of his throat, his eyelids droopy. “Huh. That’s good. I wanna find him and apologise now, Bin. I don’t think he’s that mean.”

Changbin took a single glance at Jisung’s deteriorating state and declined the request. “Nope, I shouldn’t have let you drink that coffee before the race. You know it gives you a caffeine high, Sung, and now you’re going to crash.”

Jisung snorted, using the last of his energy to pull the door of the sedan open and climb in. “Already ‘ave.”

Changbin paused, peering around the car from his position at the boot to see Jisung’s legs hanging out the side, still coated in his race suit but lifeless, proving Jisung’s own words to be true. Shaking his head and smiling fondly, Changbin wiped his brow, the autumn afternoon sun relentless, and went to help his friend’s tired body into the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im SO SORRY it took me so long to update my life has been a bit of a mess, but you know what, she'll be right.  
> i finally got my internet back to find fucking HAN JISUNG had turned into PETER, smh
> 
> hope y'all enjoyed!


	6. Bittersweet Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An awkward apology is made, and Minho feels strange.

It was one day after the Prelims and four days before the finals that Jisung gave up on hiding in his hotel room from reporters, acknowledging that sooner or later Chan was going to get back to exploring the city and not carrying meals upstairs to Jisung like he was room service.

He was aware of a small, clean cafe a couple of storefronts down from the giant hotel, and he figured he would be able to convince Changbin to join him if he bribed him with coffee. Jisung would have liked going alone, but he needed back up if he was spotted by a fan or just people in general.

Tugging a striped yellow shirt over his head, Han was disoriented for a moment, and stumbled backward, his bare back bumping into the cold wall. He flinched but ultimately succeeded in getting the shirt on, before realising he was supposed to be wearing the things Nike sent him.

Jisung groaned.

He refused to take off the shirt after the experiences he endured to get it on, so he settled for wearing a pair of light nylon track pants with subtle branding; by subtle he meant one tick on his thigh, then another hundred or so spanning the length of his leg. So not so subtle.

Slipping on his favourite, well worn, white shoes and linking a silver necklace around his neck, Jisung assembled his messy blonde hair slightly before snatching his wallet from the discarded pair grey sweatpants on the floor.

Finally satisfied with his appearance, Jisung left the room before he lost his confidence.

Changbin’s room was right next to his so it was easy for Jisung to exit his doorway and skip across the hall to Changbin’s, rattling his knuckles against the sturdy wooden door numbered _325_.

Changbin’s voice was muffled, but Jisung quickly interpreted what his friend was trying to get across.

“Come back at ten o’clock.”

Jisung seized his knocking, shifting to a verbal approach in the hopes that Changbin would feel more inclined to wake up if he knew it was Jisung. “Changbinnie, can we go and get breakfast together? It’s Sungie, your favourite~”

“Fuck OFF, Jisung.”

Yeah, he should have seen that coming.

Sighing, Jisung glanced at Chan’s room a few doors down and ran a hand through his hair. After thinking for a few moments, he ducked back into his room to grab a black bag that held all his important belongings, slinging it over his shoulder as he exited the top floor of the hotel via the golden stairwell.

Changbin often worked far harder than Jisung, as even when Jisung wasn’t racing, Changbin was calling people, signing contracts, contacting sponsors, paying people and probably hundreds of other things that Jisung didn’t even know about. Jisung _supposed_ he deserved a sleep in, though he still was bothered that his nice offer was turned down so bluntly.

Chan on the other hand, well, Jisung was just too much of a chicken to knock on his door. Although he would never admit it out loud, Chan was kind of intimidating, and Jisung didn’t want to find out if he had grown into a bad morning person or not.

The lady at the front desk flashed Jisung a toothy smile as he walked past. “Have a good day, Mr. Han.”

Jisung returned her smile, glancing up from the ring he was adjusting. “You too, ma’am.”

The streets of Austin were surprisingly quiet for 8:00 in the morning, but Jisung credited it to the fact that as winter was approaching, it wasn’t super bright yet. But he liked the lower lighting, the cooler air. It was refreshing, far better than the stifling heat that the afternoons still brought with them.

The cafe on the corner of the road was a cream colour, a risky design choice, but Jisung liked it. There were five or six people inside, but none of them looked up as Jisung walked in, the glass door bumping a bell that summoned a young man to the register.

His eyes widen a little as Jisung approached the counter, as although he didn’t recognise the boy as the winner of the American Formula 1 Preliminaries, Jisung was very pretty. And Sam didn’t do well with pretty boys.

Jisung smiled slightly as he shifted his feet, unsure as to why the man behind the counter was staring at him. “Um, hi?”

The man, whose name tag read _Sam_ , blinked, snapping back to attention at the sound of Jisung’s voice. “Oh, uh hi! How can I help you?”

Glancing up at the chalkboard, Jisung squinted slightly at the iced drinks menu, before giving up. How was he supposed to choose? There were like fifty drinks there!

He transferred his gaze back to the cashier, who had gone back to studying Jisung’s face as though it was a work of art. Jisung wasn’t sure whether he should be flattered or proceed with being confused. “Do you have any recommendations?”

More startled than ever, Sam placed his hands on the edge of the bench as he processed Jisung’s question. “Uh- recommendations? Oh, right, uh yeah. My favourite is the Iced Green Tea? W-would you want that?”

Jisung tried to defuse the tension by grabbing his wallet from his pocket rather than maintaining eye contact. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’m not exactly decisive.”

Sam giggled in a high-pitched manner. “Yeah, me neither. Uh, what’s your name?”

“Jisung.”

Pretending he didn’t notice Sam repeating his name under his breath, Jisung walked to an empty seat by the main window, sliding into the seat before turning over what just happened.

Jisung would have had to be blind to not notice that he had some sort of effect on women, but he had never noticed the same reaction in a guy. It made him… feel fuzzy.

He had considered men attractive before, and he had known for a long time that he certainly wasn’t _straight_ , but he hadn’t thought enough about his sexuality to figure out what he was labeled as.

It hadn’t seemed important, not when he had racing to focus on.

Sure, he had two or three girlfriends during high school, and one kiss with the football captain at his birthday party that had been what some would call his awakening, but no _proper_ relationships. But if the right person were to come along, would Jisung go for it?

As Jisung sat stumbling over his sexuality crisis, the bell above the door rang again, and a lady with purple and grey hair came to the counter to serve the new customer.

“Welcome! How can I help you?”

“Um… can I get an iced americano? Double shot.”

Hold up. Han knew that voice.

Minho was looking good in the morning lighting, his bluey black hair clearly messy from sleep but still flattering, a pale blue shirt and faded denim jeans. Jisung admired his appearance for the most of five seconds before remembering the only two times he had talked to the racer had both ended in arguments.

Fair enough, only one of the arguments was actually between them, and it was for a stupid reason, but Jisung didn’t know whether Minho was still mad at him or not.

Glancing back down at the silver ring on his middle finger, Jisung really believed he had a chance of Minho not noticing him, but then Sam came back out front with Jisung’s drink.

“Jisung?”

Wincing, Jisung felt Minho’s piercing gaze burning holes into the side of his face as he went up to collect his drink.

He lowered his voice to thank Sam, somehow able to remember that his voice usually raised 50 decibels when he was nervous. He didn’t know Minho well enough to figure out whether his gaze was naturally this judging or whether he was just really fucking pissed. “Thank you.”

Sam flushed, his freckled skin turning pink. “Y-yeah, you’re welcome.”

After collecting his drink and a straw to consume it with, Jisung turned and made a beeline for the door, when Minho spoke up. “Jisung.”

Jisung sucked in a breath, his heart jumping a little and clutching the drink to his chest as he turned to face Minho at a table in the corner of the small shop. “Yes?”

Minho motioned him over, though he looked slightly uncomfortable, maybe nervous. Jisung couldn’t tell.

Jisung approached the table cautiously, his face as blank as he could manage. “Hello?”

Minho adjusted the collar of his shirt. “Hi. Uh, I wanted to apologise? For my behaviour the other day. It was… uncalled for.”

Jisung rolled his eyes. “No kidding.”

Minho glared at him and Jisung scrambled to recover, definitely preferring awkward Minho over angry Minho. “Sorry, sorry, thank you for your apology. I should apologise too.”

Minho nodded. “Okay. Go ahead.”

Jisung blinked at him, his brow furrowing slightly. “That was my apology.”

“Oh. Well. Thank you?”

Glancing at an imaginary watch, Jisung paused for a second to gesture at the door. “I think I’m gonna go now. Thanks for apologising.”

Minho nodded hurriedly, as though he was happy that Jisung was leaving. _That stings a bit._ “Uh, yeah, no problem. We’re... all good now.”

Jisung nodded, adjusting his black bag on his shoulder. “Cool.”

As Jisung walked to the door, cursing internally at himself for being so awkward, Minho said something else that made him stop dead in his tracks. “Hey, I’ll see you at the Finals.”

Jisung turned back slowly, a small smile on his lips. “Yeah, good luck.”

Minho stared at Han as he exited through the glass doors at the front of the cafe, stared at him as he walked back to the hotel down the road, stared at him until he was out of sight.

Something in his stomach felt weird. _Good luck_.

“Minho, your drink is ready!”

Minho didn’t normally apologise, but he had this time, because he actually did feel sorry. He didn’t even know why he had argued with Han in the first place.

Minho had expected that when he apologised, the guilty feeling in his stomach when he thought about the rookie would go away, but it had morphed into something… warmer. What could that possibly mean?

Maybe he just doesn’t like Jisung.

He had wished him ‘luck’. Was it because he didn’t think Minho had the skill to beat him? Minho bit his lip as he sat back down. But his smile was kind of ni-

No. Han Jisung thinks he’s a loser, probably. Minho just doesn’t like him.

He took a sip of his coffee. Yeah, that’s it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sUrE miNhO  
> anyways, minho big dumb, nothing new there  
> hope y'all enjoyed this chapter! I personally enjoyed the brief departure from the more intense stuff, though there's still a ton more of that to go~


	7. Just a Few Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jisung finds out who he's racing against in the finals, and both he and Chan are interviewed by a company that aren't as nice as they originally seemed.

As they sat in the foyer of the grey, grey media company, Jisung shifted next to Chan to get a better view of the tv screen above the reception desk. The current display on screen was the results of the second prelims, from which the top five will be pitted against the top five of Han’s prelims for the finals.

In first place was New York Rep, Maddox Livingstone. Jisung was slightly surprised when they showed the pre-race interview, as the guy had his kids with him. Racers normally retired in their thirties, but this man was still in racing shape even though he had to be in his late forties. That meant he had experience in the racing industry that Jisung didn't.

Jisung grit his teeth.

Second place was Lucky Arnolds, a jumpy guy who’s been racing for four years. His blue eyes seemed to be searching for an exit throughout the entire interview, but Jisung could understand that. He seemed nice enough, but there were some dangerous choices he made throughout the race that worried Jisung.

The racer in third place was Han and Chan’s friend, the representative from California, Felix Lee. He’s Australian, but Australia wasn’t able to participate in the Prix this year due to a lack of sponsorship and funding for Felix’s team. This meant that California, who didn’t have a representative, snatched the opportunity while they could.

Chan’s tired face lit up as Felix appeared on the screen. “Well would you look at that, Sung. Lix made it.”

Jisung nodded. “I didn’t doubt him for a second.”

Chan grimaced. “I did.”

Placing a playful punch into his friends’ arm, Han laughed. He was looking forward to seeing Felix, though. The replay showed just how much his friend had improved. It would be a good race.

The screen was just about to move to show the racer in fourth place when a lady with platinum blonde hair, a skin-tight black skirt and a clipboard entered the room. “Han Jisung and Bang Chan? Come this way please.”

Chan walked into the recording room first, and was guided into a seat in the centre of the set, before a pair of make-up artists move in on him, touching up slight marks on his face. Chan appeared to be very confused.

Jisung floundered in the doorway for a few moments before a hand found his elbow and he was shifted gently to a seat next to Chan’s. Another make-up artist approaches, but this time, the guy is coming for him.

“It’s okay, it’s not much. Just a few additions.”

Blinking up at the man who was now, brushing a thin layer of highlighter on his cheeks, Jisung was surprised that he had interpreted his discomfort. “I don’t mind the make-up. I just don’t… like interviews.”

The artist faltered for a moment. “Oh! That’s cool. But you don’t like interviews? This can’t be fun then.”

Jisung sighed, shutting his eyes as his hair was re-arranged by able hands. “It’s okay. I don’t mind too much, and it’s a small price to pay for doing something I love.”

Apparently finished, the artist stepped back. A smile touched his lips. “I respect that.”

Jisung opened his eyes, his lips automatically twisting into a close-mouthed smile. “Thank you.”

“Okay! No scripts, just honest answers. You two ready?”

Han glanced hurriedly at Chan as everyone moved back behind the cameras except for the red-haired interviewer, trying to remember his instructions. Chan caught his eyes and patted his hand encouragingly. “Yup.”

“Okay! Cameras are rolling in three, two, one-”

The interviewer perked up, a showy smile on her round face. “Welcome back, everyone! Although we’ve caught up with our friends in Dallas, it’d be pretty hard to forget what’s going on here in Austin! This year we’ve gotten to hold the American Preliminaries of the Monaco Grand Prix, the biggest formula one event IN THE WORLD!

Both sets of Preliminaries have been completed now, and in only four days, our ten finalists will be competing for the top three spots, which will take them to Monaco!”

Jisung squirmed slightly as she continued, though he was about eighty percent sure his movement wasn’t picked up on by the camera.

The lady used her hands a lot as she spoke, emphasising every word. “Now, I’m sure you have all heard that a particular rookie has been breaking records non-stop this year, even making new time for the Prelims itself! If not, well you’re still in luck, as we have the man himself in the studio today, as well as his teacher! Han Jisung, and Bang Chan everyone!”

Chan offered a warm smile as always nodding at the camera, and Han waved his hand, hoping he looked less awkward than he felt.

“We’re so glad to have you guys on the show today! How are you guys feeling?”

Deciding the question wasn’t directed to him, Chan turned to Han. Jisung stumbled over his words in his head for a second but found his voice before the silence extended for too long. “I’m happy I secured top spot, but I’m nervous about the finals. There are lots of good racers there.”

The interviewer's smile stretched impossibly wider. “You’re not wrong about that! And it's only two days away! Are you doing anything to prepare for them?”

Jisung blinked. “Uh well, yeah. Chan and I go down to the practice track most mornings before the other racers come down. I also watch replays and things like that with my manager to see the mistakes I’ve made before and learn from them.”

The interview went on like that for a while, and Jisung found himself getting comfortable, fidgeting far less, which the seams of his violet hoodie were grateful for. Chan was asked a few questions about what he did nowadays, and the usual ones about if he was proud of Jisung.

“Chan, would you say that Jisung had potential before you started mentoring him?”

Chan’s dark brow furrowed, the smile on his lips faltering slightly. “Well, yes, of course. Jisung had so much talent, right from word go.”

Her hand wrapped around her cards tightening visibly, the interviewer leaned forward. “Yes, but I’m sure you taught him all he knows, right?”

Chan seemed to pick up on the tone behind her words, taking clues from Jisung’s sudden drop in mood as he dipped his head. His smile was completely gone now. “Jisung is adaptive and highly skilled. He learnt most of what he knows on his own. I was just there to give tips and guide him on the right path. He could have just as easily done it on his own.”

The lady flinched at the underlying aggression in Chan’s tone, but recovered quickly and moved to the next question as though nothing had even happened. Jisung raised his head, but all the comfort he had gained had long dissipated.

Jisung’s greatest fear was that Chan was wrong. Jisung probably _couldn’t_ have done it on his own. He relied so much on his best friends, for so long while he was learning. They taught him so much. If it weren’t for them, he most likely wouldn’t have won his first regional, maybe wouldn’t have even raced at all.

And everyone seemed to know that.

Jisung wanted so bad to prove he was his own racer, and that _he_ is the leading ingredient in his ability, but he doesn’t know how. Winning the Grand Prix seemed like a good start.

Lady with Red-Hair glanced down at her prompts again. “Okay, just a few questions left! Jisung this one’s for you; are you looking for a partner? Heaven knows there are hundreds of girls out there willing to date you.”

It took all he had not to grimace at the clear assumption of sexuality, but he supposed it was fair enough. He had never clarified what his sexual orientation was, but it’s not as though that was information _everyone_ needed to know. “Um, my main priority right now is winning the Prix, but I’m sure I’ll consider a relationship when I get back.”

“Lovely, I’m sure we’ll have many happy viewers! Do you have any plans for the prize money of the Prix?”

Jisung laughed stiffly. “No, not really. I suppose a lot of it will go to my team because they are the real heroes, but I’m definitely considering donating.”

Lady with Red Hair licked her lips, before smiling scarily again. “Well, that’s fantastic! Last question; we know you and Chan are friends with the Californian representative but are there any racers you’re looking out for in the finals?”

Jisung cast a glance at Chan, who nodded, an indicator that this at least was not a loaded question. He thought for a few seconds. “I think Arnolds and Allens are people to look out for, for sure, and Livingstone has many, many years on me, so he knows what he’s doing. I think it’s going to be a crazy race.”

Nodding vigorously in agreement, the interviewer seemed desperate for more. “What about Lee Minho? We’ve heard that you two have talked before, and he was only four seconds behind you!”

Startled by Minho’s name, his mind jumping to the awkward apology in the café, Jisung swallowed. “Yeah, Lee is a brilliant racer.”

Leaning in again as though she was sharing a secret, the interviewer kept pushing it. Chan narrowed his eyes, clearly not a fan of this woman after she insulted Jisung’s ability earlier.

“You don’t think he’s a bit past his prime? He hasn’t won a single race since last year.”

Jisung’s eyes widened, and he didn’t know why he felt so offended by the comment, but he couldn’t stop the bite in his voice when he spoke. “Lee Minho was and still is one of the best racers in America. I consider him one of my greatest opponents.”

She sat back again, and the director motioned for them to round it up. Swallowing the interview signed off, and disappeared almost as soon as the cameras shut down.

Jisung studied his old Filas, a frown on his face. Chan placed a calloused hand on the sleeve of Jisung’s hoodie. “Wanna go back to the hotel? I can sort this mess out with Changbin later.”

Han nodded. His mind was a mess after the negative undertones of the questions, but one name seemed to be tattooed right at the front of it, unmoving and slightly intimidating. Jisung isn't sure what to think about that yet though.

. . .

Yawning, Jisung fell back onto the soft, white duvet, burying himself in the hopes that he wouldn’t have to talk to anyone else before he slept. When he and Chan had gotten back to the hotel, Chan had told Changbin about the invasive questions and just all the shitty stuff they had said, and once Changbin had calmed down, he made sure to cut off all future schedules with the company.

They would let the episode air, but they could always find someone else to make a deal with for promotions.

To be honest, Jisung was surprised with how well he handled the situation. Instead of panicking and stuttering, he just went with the flow. What he was confused about was what he said about Minho.

Jisung rolled over, bringing his knees up to his chest as he snuggled his tired body into the blankets. He played with a few front strands of his blonde hair, humming quietly as he thought.

He had been so quick to defend Minho, even though the only positive interaction they shared was the conversation at a café. But he had a feeling Minho wasn’t all that bad. His apology was genuine, and it seemed to be in his nature to be short about things, so Jisung wasn’t all that special.

Maybe that’s why he said what he did.

But he would have to be oblivious or in denial to not realise that he was _slightly_ attracted to the racer. Who wasn’t? Minho was _really_ nice looking.

Jisung grimaced. This had to stop. Now was not the time to be involving his feelings.

“Jisung?”

He lifted his head slightly at the sound of Chan’s voice at his door. He croaked. “Yeah?”

Chan’s voice sounded tired but tender. He must still be upset. “Can I come in?”

Jisung sat up, quickly pulling off his jeans and chucking on something that he could sleep in. “Yes, of course. I’ll be there in a second.”

After about thirty seconds, Jisung walked to the door and opened it to find Chan was carrying a pillow. Chan looked sad, his eyes droopy and his dark curls askew.

“I’m sorry for what they said about you, Sungie. I never, _ever_ want you to feel that way about yourself. You are so deservin-“

Jisung wrapped his arms around his friend, who melted into his embrace. “Chan, everything is okay. It’s _not_ your fault that they said that. What they were right about is that you are the best teacher I could have ever asked for.”

Chan sniffed, wrapping his arms around Jisung’s torso. He wasn’t crying. Chan doesn’t cry, not so much as get mad or bottle it up. But Chan _is_ incredibly sensitive when it comes to Jisung and Changbin.

Chan exhaled shakily, as though he was regaining his breath after a marathon, releasing Jisung. “Okay. I’m sorry again, I didn’t mean to bother you. I just want you to be happy doing what you love, especially after you’ve earnt it. ‘Kay?

Jisung grinned, his own eyes getting watery, mainly because he was tired but also because man did he love Chan. “Okay, sir. Love you, Chan.”

“Yeah, love you too, Ji.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
> theres still no minsung yikes im sorry but i promise im getting there i just need them to stop hating each other for no reason first  
> next chapter will be ready for a couple of days and then the update that will be the FINALS, so keep an eye out  
> 


	8. Epiphany

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minho can't sleep, so he sneaks out of the hotel and goes for a drive. When he comes back, he has a jarring epiphany that only pushes him further into denial.

Minho watched the episode.

The episode of that random midday show that somehow managed to interview not only Han Jisung but also _the_ BANG CHAN about the Preliminaries, which is ridiculous.

But what is also ridiculous is that now he can’t sleep because he’s too busy thinking about the finals. And Han Jisung. But mainly the finals.

He peered around the corridor from the doorway of his room, number _419_ , knowing that there was no telling who was wandering the corridors of the giant hotel at this time. Minho wasn’t even sure how Seungmin got them a room in this hotel; it seems to be dripping in gold, filled with only the best racers and the richest spectators.

Tugging the hood of his black hoodie over his freshly washed dark hair, Minho stepped out into the corridor. He winced as the keys in his hand connected with the metal buttons of his denim jacket, but the contact wasn’t loud enough to set off any alarms.

After he was certain that no one had called for security, Minho relaxed his tense shoulders and moved towards the stairwell at the end of the hall, one that was connected to every floor of the hotel. He didn’t understand why they hadn’t just gotten an elevator installed, but he supposed having an aesthetic was important.

Minho was aware that Jisung was staying in this hotel as well, as he had watched him return here after their exchange in the coffee shop, but he hadn’t seen him since. He was glad though, as he wanted to put as much space between the two of them as possible. Because he didn’t like Han Jisung.

Not at all.

Clutching his car keys tightly in the fist of his right hand, Minho shielded his face as he descended into the lobby, his eyes stinging from the sudden brightness. The woman at the counter looked as though she was almost asleep, and Minho couldn’t blame her.

She startled, her words coming out confused as Minho sauntered through the foyer, looking darkly handsome in his outfit. “Uh, have a nice night, Mr. Lee?”

Minho nodded slightly in her direction, willing his eyes to crinkle into a smile before he ducked through the turnstile at the front and exited into the night.

. . .

Exhaling slowly, Minho leaned back into the headrest of his car, which was just like new after he had it touched up a few weeks beforehand. He raised a hand to tug his hood off, casting his dark hair in various directions, but it didn’t bother him. He opened the door, stepping out onto the damp pavement.

The moon wasn’t full, apparently still in its waxing stages, but it lit up the park appropriately, well enough for Minho to find a bench to sit on. He admired the reflections on the lake before his thoughts drift back to the finalists.

He agreed with what Han said about Lucky Arnolds, though he wouldn’t have been so polite about it. The racer made some real dumbass moves out on the track, the kind that can lead to career-ending crashes. Minho was concerned that someone was going to get hurt.

The New York Representative, the one with _kids_ was also a worry, but Minho felt as though he could handle that. It was Jisung he was worried about.

He could never predict what Jisung was going to do when he was watching replays, but in the actual races, he didn’t need to know what to do; there was no way he could possibly catch up.

Sure, he got close last time, but Jisung was still ahead, ahead by too much. And Minho hesitated because the situation felt all too familiar.

What Jisung said about him made Minho confused. Why did he compliment him?

Minho _knew_ he wasn’t a bad racer, but why would Jisung admit that? When asked about his opponents, he just spoke his mind. Minho didn’t know what he would have done if he was in the rookie’s position.

Tilting his chin up, Minho closed his eyes, bracing himself on the cold metal of the bench. _Sigh._

A chilly breeze picked up from the lake, ruffling Minho’s hair and rousing him from his thoughts, reminding him that he would have to go back to the hotel at some point.

He stood slowly, unwillingly, and wandered back to his car, watching his feet. Their red colour didn’t match with the rest of his outfit at all, but he didn’t care. Hyunjin had bought them for him when he started racing, and he had just kind of worn them since.

Once he was cocooned in the warmth of his car again, Minho powered it up and travelled back through the neon lights of the city to the hotel. He thought back to the person who had accompanied Jisung in the interview; the legend, Christopher Bang.

He preferred to go by Chan now, but Minho had only talked to him once, a few years back when he raced with him in the American Grand Prix and ever since he was compartmentalised in Minho’s head as Chris.

Chan had been a world champion; sure, he never won the Grand Prix, but he won so many championships Minho couldn’t even remember the names of half of them. Minho started racing in the year before Chan retired to do something he actually enjoyed, so he only got to race him three or four times, but he couldn’t deny the fact that when Chan had left, America really lost something brilliant.

Minho respected him, more than many other racers he had competed against, but he was always agitated when the media dragged him back into things, he clearly didn’t want to be involved in. It is obvious that Chan cares a _lot_ for Jisung, and Minho can practically hear the elder’s heart _breaking_ whenever interviewers discredit Jisung for his success.

Hell, Minho doesn’t know Jisung well, but he can tell he works hard.

The city was nice at night; not as pretty as many of the others that Minho had visited, and certainly not as nice as his childhood city in Korea, but it would do. The lights reflected off Minho’s eyes, making them sparkle, looking far bigger than they did in daylight.

After three or four more minutes of driving with a single hand on the steering wheel, Minho spotted the hotel. He turned into the underground parking lot building nearby, suddenly tired, a feeling he should have had three hours ago.

He parked the car, shutting the door as quietly as he could manage, before locking the car and walking upstairs, from where he crossed the street to the red and gold hotel, and climbed fifty thousand stairs (or something like that) to get to the third story, unlocked his door, shrugged off his denim jacket and lay on his bed in his black hoodie, jeans, and violently red shoes.

Minho counted the lights in the mini chandelier as he lay, thinking of the race that would take place in two days; the Finals. It was hard to accept that if he didn’t get his shit together, he wasn’t headed to Monaco. Minho often forgot that he was human, and there was more to it than just forcing himself to press the pedal.

As Minho’s eyelids fluttered shut, his soft, dark lashes resting on his smooth pale cheeks, he began his internal simulation of the race.

Turn. Slow down. Turn, take the inner side. Corner, turn. Straight. Accelerate. Slow, turn, break. Outer.

He would do well if he raced like this. When he reached the end of the race in his mind, he had come in first place by a full 11.4s. Minho smiled.

Suddenly, he was on the podium holding a trophy. Second place.

Apparently, this greatly enraged daydream Minho, and he turned in search for the real trophy, his eyes were fixed on the person next to him. And that person was none other than Han Jisung.

He was laughing, his lips a glossy pink, his skin golden in the sunlight. His eyes were squeezed into crescent moons as he poked a finger into Minho’s ribs, sufficiently defusing the growing anger. Minho took the blonde racer in his arms, hugged him to his chest and-

Minho’s eyes shot open. Oh _fuck._

He didn’t _like_ Han Jisung. Did he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sighs* so whos gonna tell him  
> heyyy y'all, hope you're enjoying so far~  
> minho can be.. big dumb sometimes, but at least he's working it out i guess hehe  
> minho's vlog is (((: ((((': so CUTEEEEE, we love a cat lover, a caring grandson, and some good Minsung
> 
> okay im done, be sure to comment your thoughts lmao i love hearing what you guys think will happen and may even consider incorporating your ideas O:


	9. Rubber on Tar Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minho’s knee bounced up and down as he perched on the edge of his seat, his silver motor suit feeling as though it was suffocating him. Sure, he was excited, but holy shit he’s really competing in the finals.

Minho’s knee bounced up and down as he perched on the edge of his seat, his silver motor suit feeling as though it was suffocating him. Sure, he was excited, but _holy shit he’s really competing in the finals._

Seungmin cast him a reassuring glance from across the cheap plastic table, though it was clear that he was just as nervous as Minho was.

“Okay, so everything’s ready to go, interviewing’s finished. All you’ve gotta do is head down there.”

Minho nodded, standing sharply. “Thanks, Minnie. Uh, I guess I’ll talk to you later.”

Seungmin hesitated for a moment, before standing as well and shifting towards Minho and wrapping the older in a hug that Minho had no idea how much he needed. “Yeah, let’s talk later. Win or lose, Minho, you’re still a legend.”

Exhaling as Seungmin released, Minho distracted himself by grabbing his helmet from the table, biting his lip. He then cocked an eyebrow, a hesitant smirk on his face. “Of course.”

Rolling his eyes, Seungmin patted Minho’s shoulder one last time before exiting the trackside tent to do dumb manager stuff. Minho wished with all his heart that the sarcastic manager could be his race-engineer as well, as it would save him from listening to whatever-her-name-is’ nasally voice every time he tore around the track.

But alas, Seungmin was not trained in the art of engineering, so Minho really was out there on his own.

“Good luck, Minho!”

“You can do it, man.”

“Take us to Monaco!”

Minho dipped his head in acknowledgement to his crew’s encouragement, before swinging his leg over the barrier and making his way to the car in third place on the track.

Jisung had made record time, putting him in first place for the final positions, and Maddox had won the other prelim race. Minho had gotten across the finish line faster, but he hadn’t won. The unfairness of the positions irked Minho, but he couldn’t do anything about it without looking like a prick.

Maddox was tall, and his cheeks were hollowed out in a way that only came from pushing yourself too hard, overworking until you couldn’t move. His icy blue eyes found Minho from where he stood next to his car, and rather than avoiding his gaze, Minho met it with challenge.

Maddox glanced away to climb into his car.

His team had lifted the halo so it was easier for Minho to get in, so when he approached the car, a small smile appeared on his face.

“Minho, right?”

Minho looked up at the sound of his name, and his eyes were met with a male with pink hair. He looked vaguely familiar. “Yeah… that’s me.”

The man extended his large hand, his dark brown eyes wrinkling as he grinned. “Allens. Jordan Allens. You raced well in Prelims! I’m looking forward to racing you again.”

_Huh. So, you can be nice_ and _a good racer._

Minho stared at the hand for a moment before deciding to be polite, shaking it lightly but firmly. “Yes, you too.”

As Jordan turned to his car, Minho’s attention snapped back to his own. The tar below him made no noise as he crossed it, and climbed inside the silver vehicle with as much grace as he could be bothered mustering.

The countdown on the clock said it was only five minutes before the race began, yet there were still three of the ten racers missing. Minho tried to remember who was in ninth, but the name wouldn’t come to him. He knew the Australian racing for California, Lee Felix, was in sixth, and he was among the missing.

And then Han Jisung. Of course, he was late.

As though he heard Minho’s thoughts and was moving to defend himself, Han appeared out of nowhere, scaling the barrier fence in a way that proved just how athletic he was. Felix was behind him, laughing about something or another.

Minho narrowed his eyes.

Felix was apparently laughing too hard to climb over the metal barrier, as he beckoned for Jisung to help him. The other racer shook his head, his pretty blonde hair ruffling in the wind. Apparently whatever Felix was murmuring was convincing, because Han almost immediately retracted his answer, shifting forward and offering his arm for the orange-haired racer to brace himself on.

There was a pang in Minho’s stomach but he ignored it, dragging his eyes away. It was none of his business as to how Jisung wasted his time.

“ _Lee, adjust your helmet, I’m getting nothing but static this end.”_

Minho scowled at the sound of his race engineers voice, but fulfilled her request, using the limited movement his arms were allowed to straighten the helmet.

“ _Okay, we’re getting started now. Buckle up._ ”

Minho tried not to watch as Jisung climbed into his violently red car in front of him, wishing desperately that their suits weren’t moulded to their bodies. The tight red material pulled against Jisung’s torso, revealing a defined back and no doubt a defined front as well, but Minho didn’t even want to know. _He is not attracted to cute rookies. He is not attracted to cute rookies. He is-_

“Welcome one, welcome all! It’s the finals, everyone! What you’ve been waiting for; all of your favourites on the same track, competing for a place to represent America!”

The lights by the sign above the track flashed three times, a piercing yellow. The countdown was about to start.

Minho grit his teeth and wrapped his hands around the grip of the steering wheel, the skin over his knuckles taunt.

“Say it with me!”

Red. Red. Red. Red.

GO.

Minho could never remember the starts of races; it was just a mad rush to get nowhere, as everyone remains in the cluster until the first straight. That’s when he comes in, passing as many people early on as possible.

The only issue this time was, there were only two people to pass, and by the time Minho comes back to his senses, Maddox and Han are at least twenty seconds ahead of him.

Slamming on the accelerator, Minho parted with the cluster, already ready to make a pass.

At first, he failed to notice the purple car edging up his left-wing, but when he spotted the vehicle, he pushed further into the inner side of the track, knowing the corner was fast approaching.

“Lucky Arnolds has passed Jordan Allens! And now he’s gaining on Lee Know! Lee’s clinging to the corner… it looks like it's paid off! Arnolds has backed up!”

Minho set his gaze on the back of Maddox’s car, an ugly orange vehicle that shouldn’t be in second. It disappeared around another corner and Minho took this one almost too close, wincing as he nearly knocked the grass edging.

_One wrong move and it’s all over_.

“Felix Lee, California Rep, has climbed into fifth place! This racer has improved a lot from his races in Australia, that’s for sure!”

Maddox and Han were edging further and further away from him, and Minho hated it. He used the adrenaline in his body to override his rationality; _just a little faster_.

“LIVINGSTONE IS MAKING A MOVE ON THE MONSTER ROOKIE!”

Minho’s eyes widened as Maddox coasted, drifting around the corner at a high speed but with very little control. But he still managed it.

Formula One’s weren’t made to pull stunts like that, with their tires and chassis, yet Livingstone had done it.

And he had passed Han. Minho’s stomach flips, making him feel nauseous. _No._

“LIVINGSTONE MAKES THE PASS! WHAT A LEGEND.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NoooOOOOooOOOOOooOOO  
> ... heyyy  
> hope y'all enjoyed the chapter, its a little shorter than usual but the Finals was wayyy too long to fit into one chapter neatly heh  
> its really hard to incorporate minsung into the race scenes cause i feel like in such a high stress situation, it would be hard to focus on anything but the track and the car in front of you.. so why did i even write this fic lmao  
> see you guys next time!


	10. Rubber on Tar Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a taste of metal in Han’s mouth. NO.
> 
> Maddox had passed him, the bright orange of his car leering into view. Jisung bit his tongue by accident, but he couldn’t take his eyes away from the awful car. Pull it together, Jisung. You can do it.

There was a taste of metal in Han’s mouth. _NO._

Maddox had passed him, the bright orange of his car leering into view. Jisung bit his tongue by accident, but he couldn’t take his eyes away from the awful car. _Pull it together, Jisung._

“ _Jisung, it’s okay, you change the past. Just watch the inside, the opportunity will arise. You can still undercut.”_

Changbin’s smooth voice calmed Jisung’s roaring nerves, bringing him back into action at the same time as a silver car made itself visible to the left. _Minho._

“Felix Lee is in fourth place, he overtook Jordan Allens. Lee Know is on the monster rookie’s tail! Will we witness a race that Han can’t win?!”

Maddox’s car wasn’t out of reach. If Jisung had to estimate, he would have said that he was three seconds behind him. But that was still enough for him to have to think about this pass, to consider his alternatives.

Changbin said to undercut, so that was what Jisung was going to do.

He just had to hold second for the next 2 minutes.

Slowly but surely, the nose of Minho’s car disappeared, its absence telling Jisung that he was on his own. He could only hope that Minho was at least seven seconds behind him by the time he got to the pits.

As he honed in on the car in front of him, everything else blurred. His entire body was numb with the excitement that came from holding first place, and the nervousness of having to re-earn the spot.

The orange car drifted another corner, and Han’s eyes widened. With so many of these unrecommended turns, Maddox was going to tire out his tires faster than Han, meaning he would need a full set replacement in the pits. This could be his window.

Speeding up, Jisung took the corner with a tad too much speed, and he felt his heart leap into his throat. Biting his lip, he ignored the shriek of his tires and drifted it back into line, a classic move of Chan’s that never failed to save Jisung’s ass. He breathed a sigh of relief.

The pits were approaching, and he was right behind Maddox now, so close that if he wanted to, he could read out the many sponsors on his tail end.

Time to reclaim what was Jisung’s.

“ _Okay, Jisung. Box it. You should have time. BOX.”_

“Yeah, I got it Changbin.”

Into the pits. Just before Maddox, a single tyre change, a touch-up. Go.

_Everything’s so loud._

Speed down the lanes, to the end, avoid No. 10.

Adrenaline.

Maddox was too close. _No. I can make it, I know I can._ To the exit, coast the corner.

_I can handle just a little more speed._

Come on, come on.

“HAN JISUNG RECLAIMS FIRST PLACE WITH A STRATEGIC UNDERCUT! WE ARE WITNESSING AN EVENT THAT WILL BE KNOWN FOR YEARS TO COME!”

Changbin wanted to cry, but he settled for slamming his fist into the table. “ _FUCK YES.”_

Then he laughed.

Jisung felt relief flood his body, followed by euphoria. _Yes. He did it._

He really did it.

“It looks like Livingstone is a bit confused now, though I don’t blame him. He’s taking too long to regain his speed; he might be in trouble here!”

Jisung’s cheeks hurt from smiling, and when the disbelief disappeared, his smile morphed into something far more dangerous. He was going win this.

. . .

Minho didn’t know why he was so relieved to see Han regain first, but he didn’t have time to think about it. He was out of the pits right behind the first two, and Maddox was struggling to speed back up. Minho could make the pass.

“Lucky Arnolds passes Felix Lee and Jordan Allens to claim fourth! That was a bloody risky move but it looks like it paid off!”

“ _Hey, Minho, that twitchy kid from Dakota is catching up. You better pull off this pass_.”

Gritting his teeth, Minho blocked out the scratchy voice and surged forward, clinging to the inside the way he did at the start. They may not be taking a corner currently, but there was no telling when he would get the opportunity again. He edged in, dipping his nose into the corner of Maddox’s vision as they raced down the straight.

The older driver didn’t seem to like this, pushing forward, and Minho frowned, staring down the fast approaching curve. Why was he going so fast? Did he see the corner?

“Maddox is panicking now! If he continues at this speed, he’s going to wipe out! Must be all these youngsters that are scaring him!”

Minho’s pulse sky-rocketed when Maddox didn’t ease off to match the corner. He already knew what was about to happen.

CRASH.

Maddox’s car desperately tried to break the corner, slowing down but it was too late. He clipped the edging of the track, and then flew into the barrier, his frame folding in on itself.

There was no fire, nor smoke. Just absolute, unrecoverable destruction.

His new tires detached from his frame, remaining attached like they were manufactured too but still obscuring part of the track. Minho was going slow enough to dodge them in time.

Apparently, the racer in fourth place, Lucky Arnolds, wasn’t as lucky as his name suggested.

“MADDOX LIVINGSTONE WIPES OUT- ARNOLDS HAS FOLLOWED SUIT! LEE KNOW DODGES THE WRECKAGE! LET’S HOPE THAT NO ONE’S HURT!”

Minho was breathing weird, and he knew he was but he couldn’t even it out. _Crash._

“ _Minho, what the fuck are you doing? It’s just a crash, Allens and Lee are right on your tail. Wake up_!”

Things were spinning, and Minho wanted desperately for them to stop. His knuckles were hurting from being so tight on the steering wheel, and the straps that held him in felt like they were burning him. He tried to slow down his breathing but he couldn’t do it.

“Lee Know is slowing down! Jordan Allens passes Felix Lee and it looks like he’s going to pass Know as well!”

Minho wanted someone to tell him to calm down, that it would be okay. But no one was on the other side of the line but his engineer. He wanted Seungmin’s voice, telling him the race was almost over. He wanted Hyunjin to be as annoyingly touchy as usual, and wrap him into a hug.

But he couldn’t have any of that.

His chest hurt.

Jordan’s pink car passed Minho as though it was nothing, waking Minho but doing nothing to calm him. He slammed on the accelerator needing to put some space between him and whoever was to challenge him for third place.

He had to win this. This was his chance.

Count to ten, Minho. One, two, three…

“We’re in the last minute folks! I’m sure you’ll be pleased to hear that both Arnolds and Livingstone bear few injuries, and should be back up again next season. Currently, Han Jisung is ahead by a lengthy ten seconds, Jordan Allens is in second by four, Lee Know is in third. Oh! Felix is catching up!”

Two more corners, a straight and then it’s over.

Minho clenched his jaw, focusing on the road ahead instead of the panic in his head. _Breathe._

“ROOKIE HAN JISUNG HAS WON THE AMERICAN FINALS!”

Just a bit closer. Minho was on the straight, Jordan just in front of him. He surged forward, so close that he could almost touch the other vehicle. It was then that Felix’s car peaked in the corner of his vision, matching his pace almost exactly.

NO.

He was so close. But so was the finish line.

“JORDAN ALLENS IS IN SECOND! BUT WHO IS IN THIRD? FELIX OR MINHO?”

It was over. Minho let the tear run down his cheek, his breathing still shallow and uneven, but a strange form of happiness was trying desperately to overcome the tornado in his stomach. It was over.

. . .

Changbin ran to the barrier near the finish line, his red _CREW CHIEF_ jacket billowing in the wind. His smile was bright, proud.

Jisung dragged his body from his car with the assistance of the officials, and his eyes immediately searched for Changbin. When they found him, Jisung was quick to disobey the orders of staying with his car.

He moved over as fast as his body would allow him, and although everything in him was screaming to embrace Changbin, he knew he had to wait until the race results were declared and they were away from the track.

Jisung settled for tugging off his helmet and chucking it at Changbin, a brilliant grin on his face. “I did it, Binnie!”

Changbin caught the helmet in his chest. He shook his head, laughing. “Hell yeah, you did.”

Jisung glanced back at where the other nine cars were lined up, able to appreciate the myriad of colours properly now that he wasn’t dying with nerves.

His eyes found Minho’s silver car and the person climbing out of it. 

Suddenly he didn’t feel so happy. 

Minho looked as though he was about to break down, his eyes red around the edges and his handsome face deathly pale. His chest heaved although it had been at least eight minutes since the race ended.

Han frowned. “Uh, Changbin? Does Minho have a manager here waiting for him? He doesn’t look too flash…”

Changbin glanced away from Jisung for the first time to study the other racer, and he had to agree with his best friend. “I’m not sure. Do… you want to go and check if he’s okay?”

Jisung bit his lip, running a hand through his hair as he considered Changbin’s suggestion. He glanced back at Minho, and all he needed to see was the desperate look flitting across the older racer's face to make up his mind. “Yeah. I’ll be back.”

Minho didn’t seem to see Jisung as he approached, but that could have been due to the fact he was still struggling to get his mask off. Jisung knew as soon as he saw Minho’s panicked movements that he had to do something before the anxiety attack escalated.

Jisung made sure to put a little bit of distance between them before speaking. “Minho? Hey, hey can you look at me for a second?”

Minho froze, his panicked eyes finding Jisung through a haze of tears. He croaked out his words, and it was when Han knew something was really wrong. “Help me. Please.”

His response almost instantaneous, Jisung neutralised his expression so he didn’t look as worried as he felt, and reached up to unlatch Minho’s mask. The older squeezed his eyes shut as Han pried the equipment away from his face as gently as he could, knowing that if he let his own nervousness for the racer show through his actions, he would only make it worse.

He lowered his voice, trying not to scare Minho any further as he placed the mask into his hands. “Hey, Minho? What can I do to help?”

Minho’s breathing was ragged, but his jumpy eyes settled on Jisung as the younger spoke. “Seungmin. I n-need Seungmin.”

Jisung remembered the name of Minho’s manager. He nodded slowly. “I’ll go and find Seungmin, okay? Is-”

Minho grabbed Jisung’s arm, his expression distraught. “Don’t leave yet. P-please.”

Jisung immediately stopped moving, offering Minho an encouraging smile. The crowd, the cars, the reporters seemed to fade away, nothing more important than helping Minho back to stability. “Okay. Can you count to ten with me?”

“Minho? Minho! I’m here now, it’s okay.”

A familiar voice came from just behind them, and Han turned in time to watch a young man with a manager jacket on vault the metal barrier and run towards them. Two of the officials yelled at him to get off the track, but his face was set with a scary calm.

Jisung stepped back hesitantly as Minho released his arm and lurched towards the man. “Seungmin-”

Minho fell straight into his manager’s arms still shaking, but relief washed through Jisung’s frame, glad that Seungmin was someone Minho could rely on, someone like Changbin and Chan were to him.

Seungmin murmured something into Minho’s ear, cradling his head of dark hair to his chest, blatantly ignoring the hundreds of eyes on them. Jisung felt out of place, intrusive. He stepped back, trying not to make Minho feel anymore ridiculed than he probably already felt.

Minho exhaled sharply, replying to Seungmin’s questions shakily. That was when the other racer’s manager looked up at Han, raising an eyebrow before offering a nod of acknowledgement.

Jisung dipped his head in reply, before jogging back towards where Changbin was observing.

There was a lump in his throat, and although he knew it was best he left Minho with someone he knew, Jisung couldn’t help but cast various glances over his shoulder to make sure that Seungmin was getting Minho off the track. 

Panic attacks were the worst, and the fact that it was triggered by an event that occurred so often in his chosen occupation made Jisung worry even more. 

Changbin dragged his eyes away from the racer by the silver car to watch Jisung approach, trying to get a gauge on how Minho’s breakdown had affected him. Han had experienced similar lapses, but his stemmed from people rather than past trauma.

Seungmin led Minho off the track gently, the officials apparently having given up by this point, and the older obeyed, straightening up for the first time since he got out of the car. The colour was returning to his face.

As Han came into earshot, Changbin sighed. “Well, that wasn’t great. Is he okay?”

Jisung hummed, a frown overcoming his face at Changbin’s somewhat nonchalance. Then he remembered that Changbin didn’t know about the apology at the coffee shop or Jisung’s strange feelings towards the other racer. “I think he’ll be alright. He responded pretty well to my words. He’ll have time to recover before Monaco, hopefully.”

Changbin frowned. “Jisung. Didn’t you hear?”

“Huh?”

Blinking, Changbin shared the news of what had happened a few minutes ago, the reason for the long wait out on the track. “Minho and Felix came in at the same time. Like _exactly_ the same time. But they’re trying to work out who to take to the Prix, and it looks like they’re gonna choose Felix.”

Jisung knows he should feel happy. Felix is great, one of his best friends. But he can’t help but feel that Minho deserved that place; he had held third, and then second for the entire race, the only thing stuffing him up was a crash that happened almost a year ago. “Oh.”

Minho could have come second if it weren’t for Maddox’s wipeout. It’s not provable, sure, but that didn’t stop Jisung from wishing it was.

“Han! You did it!”

Jisung paused from studying his shoes for a second to find the source of the voice. Felix jogged towards them; his face lit with a wide smile that seemed to be contagious.

Han allowed himself to grin back, though something sad and disappointed coiled in his stomach. “Yeah. So, did you, Lix, we’re so proud of you.”

Felix flushed as Jisung pinched one of his cheeks, but didn’t bother batting him away. “Thank you, Sungie. Hey Changbin.”

Changbin braced an elbow on the barrier and rested his sharp chin into his hand. “Hey, Felix.”

Jisung released Felix’s cheek to rest against the metal again. He tried to push the recent events to the back of his mind. Minho wouldn’t have asked for some random racer’s help if he had been in a better state of mind. “So, when did you get so good?”

Felix played with the cuff of his dark blue motor suit, grimacing slightly. “You guys know Maya, right?”

“Yeah, your manager?”

Nodding, Felix continued. “Well, she’s not nice _at all_. She paid for this intense training program, and I had to do it every day for like three months straight. It was not fun, but it worked.”

Changbin snorted. “Sounds familiar.”

Jisung froze from playing contemplatively with his blonde hair. “Hey! You needed that manager course. You were _useless_ before, even Chan said so.”

Changbin went to reply, but he didn’t get the chance, interrupted by the hosts of the event.

It was safe to say that everyone in the stadium got the message.

“After contacting the runner of Monaco Grand Prix, XXX XXX, boy do we have news for you, America. This year, we will be sending FOUR REPRESENTATIVES!”

Names and pictures flash across the giant billboard screens scattered around the stadium.

Felix Lee. Lee Minho. Jordan Allens.

Han Jisung.

“Further celebrations will be held between racers at the Finalist After Party! Congratulations, and we hope to see you all at the Grand Prix!”

Han wondered how Minho felt about the plot twist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... well  
> that was yikes  
> dw everyone, Minho is gonna be just okay, and he doesn't forget Jisung's help  
> hope you guys enjoyed this longer update! this chapter means a lot to me, personally, and I hope it read well <3
> 
> we're approaching the end of the America arc, and soon these boys will be off to Monaco, so I have a couple questions for y'all  
> \- should i keep the monaco arc in this same book, or should I turn it into a series thing?  
> \- would y'all be interested in an interlude involving a different characters perspective on the earlier scenes? maybe we could find out what hyunjin's been planning-


	11. Go with the Dangly Ones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jisung prepares for the after party, is pleasantly surprised by his outfit and has a talk with Chan before the time comes to head to the venue.

Jisung felt self-conscious.

It hadn’t been his idea to dye his hair back to its natural colour; it had been blonde for a long time now, but Changbin thought he would look more professional if he changed it back, as well as suiting his eyes better. Now it was back to its dark brown, and trimmed slightly so it wasn’t constantly falling in his eyes.

Jisung hadn’t been sure whether he would like it as much, but now he realised he preferred it. The reason for his self conciousness was what the media would think of it. 

He studied his face in the mirror, his cheekbones shiny with a touch of highlighter, his lips pursed into a slight frown. His eyes were darker than usual but Jisung passed it off as the poor lighting in the bathroom of the hotel.

Pulling himself away from his reflection before he started begging to switch places with it, Han walked back into his moonlit room, flicking on the light so that he could find the outfit that one of his sponsors sent to Changbin for the event.

The Finals after-party was exclusive, but there were still multiple photographers at the event who came to get images that would soon be plastered on newspapers, so quite a few new sponsors approached Changbin, wanting their brand on the monster rookie.

Strewn carelessly across the end of his bed, probably cast there by Changbin before he went out to buy a new suit jacket for himself, was a starch white dress shirt with a low collar and neckline, a blood-red blazer and a matching pair of pants.

Jisung blinked. Well, he hadn’t expected that.

Tentatively running his hand over the material of the jacket, Han was surprised to feel the fabric was smooth and cool under his hand; he certainly wouldn’t mind wearing this..

Taking a few minutes to fumble with the buttons and adjust his hair, Jisung had the white button-down on. He slipped the deep red, velvet jacket over his shoulders, internally thanking whoever made the comfortable fabric. Suddenly, dressing up wasn’t so bad after all.

As he walked to the bathroom, he carefully tucked the edges of the expensive fabric into his pants, wanting it out of the way but not rumpled. He was aware Changbin would kill him if he showed up looking scruffy.

The second Han glanced into the mirror, he thanked the gods that he had sponsors to choose what he wore or else he would never be able to look this good. He grinned a little, pushing his dark hair back off his forehead and biting his lip.

His impromptu modelling shoot was interrupted by the sound of a knocking at the door. Jisung was shocked back to the present, and he glanced at the time before answering. He still had twenty minutes or so.

“Uh, yeah? Who is it?”

“It’s Chan. Can I come in?”

Jisung tugged on some socks, and hopped awkwardly over towards the sound of Chan's voice, knowing the door was locked on the outside. “Y- ugh- yeah, hold up.”

Chan’s laughing could be heard from the other side of the door. “You all good in there, Sungie?”

Jisung straightened too quickly, stumbling into the door. Wincing, he pushed himself up and unlatched it before replying. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Chan’s warm brown eyes widened at the sight of Jisung’s cleaned up self. “Woah.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Han glanced down at his black socks. “Do I look okay?”

The initial shock disappearing, Chan’s face split into a dimpled grin. He stepped into the room, placing his hands on Jisung’s dark red suit to regain the younger's gaze. “You look _fantastic_ , Jisung. Made of gold.”

Jisung beamed, his eyes finding Chan’s face again. “Really?”

“Yeah, man. They won’t be able to take their eyes off you.”

The comment caused Jisung’s thoughts to curve towards Minho’s piercing gaze, but he quickly recovered, shrugging off Chan’s hands so he could search for his necklace and earrings. “Hopefully they’ll manage. I’m sure there will be many pretty people there. You coming?”

Chan glanced down at his hoodie and sweatpants combination. “Uh, yeah, I don’t think so.”

Jisung whined from the bathroom. “Aww, it's going to be so boring without you.”

“I genuinely can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”

Reappearing around the white frame of the bathroom door and holding two sets of diamond earrings up to the side of his face, Jisung replied. “Of course, I’m not. You’re always making me laugh. These ones or these ones?”

Chan squinted. “Uh, is there a difference? You should be asking Changbin this.”

Jisung groaned. “Yeah, but he’s gone to get his stuff. He’s going to be panicking when he gets back. Dammit, at least one of us should have good taste.”

Falling back onto Han’s bed, Chan snorted. “Yeah, but we don’t.”

“Not helpful.”

Chan waved Jisung over. “Come ‘ere. Hmm… go with the dangly ones. What about a necklace or something?”

Jisung hummed in thought, now pacing as the clock ticked down to go time. “I should have one or two that match. Hold on a second, I’ll grab them.”

Chan counted the number of lamps in Jisung’s room while the younger rushed back to the bathroom, rifling through his jewellery satchel.

Jisung felt much calmer now that Chan was there. He always sought comfort in Chan and his warm, enveloping embrace and light humour, and he was still comfortable to talk to him about scarier topics, ones that he wasn’t able to talk to Changbin about. Chan may have begun as just a teacher, but now Han didn’t know what he would do without him.

He held a simple faux diamond choker to his neck, resting it on his exposed collarbones, and he knew without asking Chan that this was the one that fit. Snatching the ‘dangly’ earrings from the white sink top, Jisung smiled, before waltzing back into the main room.

“What’s up, I’m back.”

Chan didn’t move to stand, but he did roll over onto his stomach, kicking his legs up onto the bed. “Well, well. Didn’t see that one coming.”

Jisung rolled his eyes and gestured to his ears. “Will you put these in for me?”

Chan grimaced. “I mean, I can _try_ , but I don’t really do earrings, Sung.”

Shrugging, Jisung placed the earrings onto Chan’s head of dark curls and sat next to him. “Whatever, just don’t stab me.”

Chan sat up, the shifting of his weight causing the bed to sink beneath Jisung. He muttered worriedly. “I can’t make any promises.”

Jisung hummed quietly as Chan threaded the silver hook through his ear, the elder’s brows furrowed in concentration. The room was pleasantly quiet aside from Jisung’s recitation, the cold wind outside not yet strong enough to wail about whatever bothers it. The only other sound was Chan’s gentle breathing, meaning that when Jisung closed his eyes, it was almost like he was at home again.

He tilted his head so that Chan could move to the other ear, a deep sigh escaping his body and interrupting his song. Chan studied Jisung’s pretty face from the strange angle he was in.

“Are you okay, Jisung?”

Jisung nodded, flinching when Chan accidentally dug the sharp end of the earring into his ear. Chan apologised, but waited for an answer.

Opening his eyes slowly, Jisung thought about the question. “Yeah. I think I am, actually. Just tired.”

Chan understood that much, as even though it had already been two days since the finals, he couldn’t imagine the pressure Jisung felt to maintain the pace he had set for himself. Once he finally put the other earring in place, he moved on to sort the back of Jisung’s hair. “That’s good. Solvable. Just remember that you can tap out, Sung. You don’t have to stay all night, just as you don’t have to race every race.”

“Yeah, but the Monaco Grand Prix is a _little_ bit different.”

Before Chan could argue, Jisung continued. “I kind of want to attend this evening. I haven’t properly caught up with Felix yet, and I heard someone say that Donghyuck has come down from Canada…”

Chan leaned back now that he had finished, resting on the balls of his hands and dangling his legs off of the bed. “Have you talked to Minho? After what happened to him the other day?”

Jisung faltered at the mention of the handsome racer, halfway to his feet when Chan said his name. He recovered slowly, adjusting his cuffs as he straightened. “I haven’t. But I will definitely see him this evening.”

Chan’s eyes softened. “Cool. I hope you enjoy yourself, Sungie.”

Jisung smiled, his eyes squeezing into crescents. “Thanks, man.”

A knock came from the door. “OI. JISUNG.”

His head snapping up, Jisung bit back a reply. “OI. CHANGBIN.”

Jisung could practically hear Changbin rolling his eyes. “Hurry up, we need to go.”

“That’s really rich coming from you, Mr. Last-Minute suit buyer.”

The action of opening the door revealed an unamused but good-looking Changbin. He raised an eyebrow as he eyed Jisung’s suit. “That was kind of weak. Looking nice though.”

“Oh, shut up. Bye Channie! Love you.”

Chan watched the two argue from his place on the bed, a lazy smile on his lips. “Yeah, see you later. Have a good time, Bin.”

Changbin nodded in acknowledgement, glancing in at Chan as Jisung shouldered past and made his way down the hall. His smile was crooked. “Thanks. Don’t get too bored without us.”

Sitting up a little, Chan shook his head. “I genuinely can’t remember what it was like to live a peaceful life.”

Changbin stuck his tongue out at his friend, before disappearing from the doorway, presumably following Jisung down to the limo they hired. Chan snorted. He really did not know how he had made it so far without them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i know im not supposed to say this about my own writing but THIS CHAPTER MAKES ME UWU SO HARD I LOVE 3RACHA  
> anyways~  
> hope you guys enjoyed the update!  
> bad news; it may be a week or so before i update again because I have some important internals exams coming up that i should really be prioritising. im sorryyyyyyy  
> okay byeee luv u guys <3


	12. Tacky Gold Wallpaper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After analysing the room with thinly veiled distaste, Changbin turned back, presumably to watch Jisung make his entrance.
> 
> And make an entrance he did.

Minho had arrived too early, and he had already downed an entire glass of some sort of expensive wine as he waited for genuinely interesting company to arrive. Seungmin told him to enjoy himself – right before he ditched Minho, might he add-, as Minho rarely drank, so Minho decided to actually listen for once.

From where Minho was standing in the main parlour, he could see the copious array of rich food and alcohol laid out on the main table, that was tucked around the corner in the dining room. The room he was standing in was where the grand silver entrance hall led to, meaning he would be able to see whoever entered and exited. 

Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one with this idea, the room filmed with nosy reporters waiting for the arrival of Han Jisung in all his glory.

Minho would be lying if he said he wasn't partly waiting for the rookie as well.

The room was far from plain; the entire venue was Greek themed, aside from the private suites attached to the main parlour, which were composed of seemingly nothing but tacky gold wallpaper and dark blue velvet. Hardly a tasteful design choice, in Minho’s opinion.

So far, from his viewpoint, the only people at the party were about twenty officials, rich sponsor representatives, whom he had already been attacked by, and Felix, Jordan and a few international finalists. He was far from alone in the main parlour, as much as he wished to be.

Minho placed the fine glass down on a waiter’s dish and walked through a group of women in satin dresses that all looked shockingly similar to collect a glass of water. He selected an intricate glass vessel from a table next to one of the many white pillars structured around the room, marvelling at how much attention had been put into the _cups_ of all things.

Felix Lee, someone who Minho still didn’t like despite his sunshine reputation, tapped him on the shoulder, a small smile on his face. Minho turned, ignoring the soft waves of his black hair that were trying to fall into his vision.

“Yes? How can I help you?”

The younger was looking better than usual in an embroidered white suit, a high collared shirt, bold eye makeup and a flash of pink lip gloss. He seemed surprised when Minho faced him, as though he hadn’t expected him to. He floundered for a moment under Minho’s gaze. “I- uh, oh. I just wanted to congratulate you. I didn’t have the chance to talk after the race, and I thought you deserved the position…”

Felix trailed off, casting his eyes downwards. Minho fought against his pride for a few moments before winning, replying in as gentle a voice as he could manage. “Thank you. I’m glad that we’re both headed to Monaco. I can see you’ve worked hard to improve.”

His amber eyes meeting Minho’s again, Felix smiled, fiddling with the cuff of his suit. “Thank you for noticing.”

Minho paused but chose to continue the conversation. Although he wasn’t a massive fan of the young racer, it was better than talking to men and women that were only interested in having their names on his car. “I can imagine that California is very different from Australia. How have you managed?”

Felix’s eyes lit up at the mention of his home country. “Well, when I first moved…”

To Minho’s surprise, after a few minutes of conversation with the younger racer, he found that he enjoyed talking with him. In fact, as the quiet chatter in the parlour grew louder with new arrivals, and the lights brightened to compensate for the nightfall, Minho began to wonder why he didn’t like Felix in the first place.

Felix laughed, leaning his shoulder against the pillar as he came to the end of his story. “And that’s pretty much it, to be fair. I vowed never to attempt an American accent again.”

Minho sipped his water, an amused smile on his face. “That sounds like a good idea.”

“Han Jisung is here! Do you have a camera?”

Minho’s eyes snapped up and away from Felix _immediately_ at the sound of Han’s name. They then shifted to the doorway, waiting impatiently for the sight of the rookie.

He hadn’t had the chance to thank him; when Minho panicked, he had been desperate for no one but Seungmin or Hyunjin, but when Han had approached with understanding, cautious brown eyes, Minho had accepted his offer. He remembered calming at the feeling of Jisung’s nimble fingers prying his mask from his face, freeing him of its restraining manner, his soft, reassuring words that made Minho feel as though everything would be alright.

And then Seungmin was there, Jisung was gone and Minho just had to focus on breathing properly.

Apparently, Minho wasn’t the only one excited to see Jisung, as there were hundreds of eyes on the doorway now, people curious and trying to be subtle but failing miserably.

Changbin, Jisung’s manager, entered first, his dark hair slicked back and his sharp eyes scanning the many occupants of the room, as though he was searching for potential threats. His suit was all black, including the dress shirt beneath it, and accented with silver. No one in their right minds would fuck with him, or Jisung.

After analysing the room with thinly veiled distaste, Changbin turned back, presumably to watch Jisung make his entrance.

And make an entrance he did.

Minho choked on his water when the rookie sauntered in, shining brighter than any of the cheap chandeliers. Jisung had always been somewhat breath-taking, but as Minho coughed into his arm, he found that he may as well drop dead.

His suit was dark red, dangerous and a _perfect_ contrast to his golden skin, which was scattered with a sheen of glitter. Felix asked him hurriedly if Minho was okay, but now that the elder’s eyes had found Jisung’s exposed collar bones, his neck shining with crystals and his hair now dark brown instead of the blonde that Minho had _finally_ grown used to, he had lost the ability to speak.

_Holy shit_. 

Minho inhaled sharply, trying to reply to Felix but failing quite miserably. “I-uh. I…?”

Felix glanced up, following Minho’s line of vision with a confused expression. His face broke into a smile when he saw Jisung. “Hey! Sungie’s here on time! I should go and say hi…”

Jisung smiled shyly as people murmured compliments, sticking to his manager's side. Minho could already see reporters and rich men approaching him, and he hated that he wasn’t right next to Jisung. All of a sudden, Minho’s rational thoughts, ones like _you don’t even know him_ and _he probably hates you_ disappeared, leaving only impulse.

Felix was the first to move. “Hey, I’m going to spread the news, it was nice talking to you Minho!”

Minho blinked at him, finally realising he should respond by the time Felix had blended back into the crowd. Minho looked back to Jisung. 

If he was going to lose his breath over someone’s appearance, then he may as well make his attraction known.

As Changbin fended off people from left right and centre, Minho paused, realising that overwhelming Jisung was the last way to leave a good impression. He bit his lip, watching as the rookie tucked a strand of brown hair behind his ear, drawing attention to the crystal earrings that hung glittering against his jawline. Minho could do his best to wait.

What did he want from Jisung anyways? 

Oh, right. To thank him.

But as Minho wrapped his ringed fingers around another glass of unnamed-alcohol, he was beginning to think that he wanted more.

_Maybe I am attracted to cute rookies_.

. . .

Jisung smiled forcibly as the lady with scarily long hair slapped his arm again, losing her mind over a comment he hadn’t even intended to be funny. “Oh, Mr. H-Han, you’re so lovely.”

Licking his lips, Jisung tried to shift away subtly. “Uh, thank you, Miss. Can you excuse me for a moment?”

She smiled in a manner that Han assumed was meant to be seductive, winking at him. “Of course. I’ll be here for you whenever you’re ready, love.”

Jisung held back a grimace, quick to shift away now that he had the chance. He glanced around the overflowing parlour, trying to find Changbin and ignoring the anxiety building in his stomach. He had only been here twenty minutes, yet Jisung was pretty sure he had had his share.

Then he remembered what he wanted to do when he arrived. Find Felix, figure out if Donghyuck had actually come to this party, and talk to Minho, find out if he’s feeling better.

Minho. Strong, unfairly attractive but scary Minho. Yeah, that one.

Han hadn’t seen him yet, but he had heard some of the sponsors discussing him, as though he was a prize to be won. Jisung hated it, but he couldn’t stop them. They did the same with him.

“There you are, Ji-ji!”

Jisung spun, eyes wide at the sound of the honey-coated voice. “Haechan? Hey!”

Donghyuck grinned at the rookie, before succumbing to his embrace. He laughed, patting Jisung’s back. “How are you doing, Jisung? I heard from a little bird that you won yet again.”

Jisung pulled back, smiling now that he wasn’t alone in the ocean of people. “I sure did. And you’re representing Canada, huh? I bet Mark is happy.”

Donghyuck rolled his eyes at the mention of his easily flustered manager. “He probably would be if he wasn’t so busy panicking about everything. He needs to learn when to take a breather, that kid.”

“Haechannie, he’s older than you.”

Waving a dismissing hand, Donghyuck continued. “Anyways, America is sending four representatives now, huh?”

Jisung nodded, his brows pulling together. “Yeah, I don’t know how, but apparently so. Have you talked to Felix yet?”

Adjusting the collar of his dark suit, Donghyuck shook his head, his sunshine brown hair bouncing with the movement. “No, I only saw him once earlier, and he looked a little preoccupied. I think he was talking to that other racer, Lee Minho? Yeah, that’s him.”

Jisung faltered, feeling… disappointed? “Oh. I didn’t know they knew each other.”

Donghyuck shrugged. “Yeah, me neither. Oh look, here comes Mr. No Chill himself.”

Jisung turned as Mark approached them, sighing when he heard Donghyuck mock his state. “Hyuck, I just want to make sure this all goes smoothly.”

“It’s okay, Markie, I won’t be difficult.” Donghyuck laughed, hooking his arm through Mark’s as his manager moved to greet Jisung.

Mark shrugged Donghyuck off his arm and offered Jisung a hand and a weary smile. “Hey, Jisung.”

Jisung smiled, shaking Mark’s hand. “Hey yourself, Lee. So, what’s this about panicking?”

Jisung caught Donghyuck wink at him behind Mark, before disappearing between bodies, heading towards the food. Mark didn’t seem to notice, running a hand through his ebony hair. “Well, I’m just worried about the flights and stuff. We can’t get a later flight, but catching one of the early ones means I’ll have to stay with Donghyuck in Monaco for an entire week more than necessary. I’m not sure if my brain can handle that.”

Rolling his eyes, Jisung leaned a shoulder against the cold, white pillar, tilting his head at Mark. “Come on, he’s not that bad. You’ve been friends with him for this long, I’m sure you’ll survive.”

Mark smiled worriedly. “I’m just worried I’m going to have to keep him occupied during that time. He does everything way faster than I do, and I’ll just bore him.”

Jisung placed a hand on the shoulder of Mark’s violet suit, staring the older straight in the eyes. “You aren’t boring, Mark Lee. Donghyuck will enjoy spending time with you, trust me.”

Mark met Jisung’s eyes, a grateful light in the pools of his own. “You sure are something, Jisung, you know that?”

“Of course.”

Laughing, Mark shook his head. “Well, I guess I should go find him. He disappeared, right?”

Jisung nodded, gesturing towards the dining room under the archway. “Yeah, probably went looking for something to eat.”

Mark glanced in the direction Han was pointing, before turning back to thank him. “Thanks. Wait, who is that?”

Jisung followed Mark’s gaze, and his eyes found a devilishly handsome figure watching him on the opposite side of the room.

Minho was scarily good-looking in a dark blue suit, his chosen undershirt being a black turtleneck that hugged his chest and left little to Han’s roving imagination. His hair fell in soft waves onto his forehead, and his eyes lined with a sharp black colour were…

His eyes were strangely… hungry.

Jisung swallowed, suddenly feeling as though he was burning up. “Uh. That’s Minho. Lee Know.”

Mark raised an eyebrow, an amused smile twitching at the edge of his lips, studying Jisung's slowly reddening state. “Looks like he wants to talk to you. Or other things. He's the third placer, right? The one you helped on the tracks?”

Jisung didn’t take his eyes away from Minho, stumbling over his thought. “Yeah. He's that one.”

Taking a second look at the darkly dressed racer across the hall, Mark tried to calm Jisung’s clearly racing heart. "Hey, Jisung?"

Snapping his head back towards Mark almost too fast, Jisung nodded anxiously. "Yeah?"

Mark spoke, his eyes sincere. "Don't take my words for fact, but judging by the way he's looking at you, I'd say he might find you attractive. Obviously, I mean, you're a really attractive guy, and like, he's attractive but-"

Donghyuck reappeared just in time, his head of golden brown popping up over Mark's shoulder as the older descended into rambling that was doing nothing but confusing both him _and_ Jisung. He smiled mischievously at Jisung when Mark jumped in surprise.

"Jesus, Hyuck, you scared the shit out of me."

Donghyuck rested his head in the crook of Mark's shoulder, looking up at the older with puppy eyes as he spoke. "I'm sorry, Mark, please don't ruin your suit by defe-"

Mark flushed and shoved Haechan off his shoulder. "Shut _up,_ Donghyuck."

Jisung was still panicking, his heart racing as the burning sensations of eyes on his face never faded. "Uh, Mark? What were you saying about Minho? What should I do?'

Mark blinked. "Oh... Donghyuck? Help us please."

Donghyuck quickly followed Mark's line of vision and found Minho. A smirk twisted onto his face. "Oh, Sungie, that guy has the hots for you."

Mark spluttered. "Donghyuck, you can't just say such vulgar things about two men! Especially in public, I can't believe you some-"

Jisung felt his insides explode, and he decided that neither of these two were helping at all.

Donghyuck shrugged, interrupting Mark's speech. "You asked for help. Jisung, he clearly wants to talk. Just go talk, no biggie."

Sinking his teeth into the edge of his lip, Jisung glanced back towards Minho, who still hadn’t looked away. Is he mad at him? But why would he be mad at him?

"Okay. Bye, Haechan, Mark."

"Bye, Ji-ji! Love you!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minho? whipped  
> jisung? nervous af  
> changbin and seungmin? where are they?  
> nct dream? is coming one day probably  
> get hype lads
> 
> ..heyyyyy im back temporarily. i probably won't update for another week or two, im so sorry but school is not cool  
> IN ADDITION  
> I finally made an instagram for my fic which i had been procastinating about due to low confidence,, we luv  
> follow me if you want @oh_cxnada and we can just talk about anything really, i'll listen <3  
> see yah later!


	13. Lightweight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey.”
> 
> Minho glanced back up, resuming his previous action of studying Han from beneath long dark lashes, only this time, his eyes were more curious than whatever they had been before. “Oh. Hey, Han.”
> 
> . . .
> 
> Han gets up the courage to talk to Minho, and Minho couldn't be happier.

As Jisung approached the threat, he slipped a glass of wine from a serving tray. Minho didn’t need to know he was a lightweight, and he would look cool if he could pose right.

Minho’s cast downwards quickly as a woman dodged out of Jisung’s way, almost as though he thought he had been subtle up until this point. Jisung fought the urge to tease the older as he came within range. 

“Hey.”

Minho glanced back up, resuming his previous action of studying Han from beneath long dark lashes, only this time, his eyes were more curious than whatever they had been before. “Oh. Hey, Han.”

Jisung paused for a moment to let Minho continue, but the older remained pressed against the pillar, the signal that he wasn’t going to keep talking only getting to Jisung when the man in the blue suit raised his wine glass to his lips and took a sip.

Han decided he should persist, remembering what he came over for. “Um, how are you feeling? Did you recover okay?”

Something tender flashed through Minho’s steely eyes before they returned to their usual impassive state, but he smiled slightly. “Yes, I’m feeling much better. Seungmin knows how to deal with me pretty well.”

Although Jisung wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, his heart fell a little bit at the lack of acknowledgement towards him in the situation. Sure, he hadn’t really done anything of significance, simply trying to comfort Minho until proper help arrived, but he thought that maybe…

Minho continued, noticing that Jisung was stepping backwards, away from the conversation. “I was- I was meaning to thank you, as well. You were… very supportive, even though you didn’t have to be. It helped. A lot.”

Jisung stopped shifting, his eyes snapping back up to meet Minho’s. That was quite possibly the most he had ever heard Minho speak.

It was nice. 

Smiling, Jisung nearly spilt his wine as he clutched a hand to his chest. “Really, it was no problem. Wow, my heart is racing, Lee, yo- oh my god.”

Minho snorted as Jisung watched his glass with cartoonish concern, waiting for the dark wine to settle before making his comment. “Are you sure you’re old enough to be here, kid?”

Narrowing his eyes, Jisung approached Minho slowly. “I’m not a kid. Watch this.”

And then Jisung chugged the wine like it was a shot.

Minho winced as the younger’s face contorted in disgust, before Jisung placed the glass on a ledge and promptly began spluttering.

“W-why do people _drink_ this shit?!”

Extending a stiff arm, Minho hesitated before patting Jisung gently on the back, shaking his head in disapproval. “Have you _never_ consumed alcohol before? You’re not meant to drink wine like that, Han.”

Jisung struggled to regain his composure, straightening and clearing his throat. “I-I knew that. I was just messing with you.”

Minho withdrew his hand and raised an eyebrow. “Right.”

Changing the subject abruptly, Jisung adjusted his hair, ignoring the burning sensation in his throat and Changbin’s voice in the back of his mind. “A-anyways, Monaco huh? Are you excited or did you want Felix to go?”

“Well, _obviously_ I wanted to go. I’m ready. I know I am.”

Jisung studied Minho’s determined expression for a couple of seconds before a small smile appeared on his lips. “That’s cool.”

Minho almost smiled back, but then he realised what Jisung had said. “Really? Just ‘that’s cool’?”

Minho loved Jisung’s playful expression, the way the younger’s lips jutted into a pout and his nose wrinkled in annoyance. “Hey, I tried! What do you want me to do? Write a full essay?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.”

Jisung crossed his arms. “Well, then I just might write one.”

Minho laughed quietly, a soft, floaty sound. Jisung blinked, staring with wide eyes at Minho. His stomach felt warm. But that might have been the alcohol that he probably shouldn’t have consumed.

Haechan’s voice shifted to the forefront of his consciousness. _He has the hots for you_. 

Jisung _really_ hoped so. 

Deciding it was probably best to retreat and regroup his feelings towards a racer that he had finally got on the good side of, Jisung dipped an invisible hat towards Minho, hoping the flush on his cheeks wasn’t as red as it felt. “Uhm, I’m glad to hear you are doing better, Minho. It was cool properly meeting you.”

The light in Minho’s eyes faded slightly at the prospect of Jisung leaving, but the younger didn’t notice. _Do something, Minho. Tell him you want him to stay._

But all that came out was. “Yes, you too.”

As Jisung’s thoughts of how pretty Minho was stumbled over each other in his head, he left, nearly merging with the crowd when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He spun immediately.

Minho withdrew his hand. “Feel free to come back, if you want. I could use the company.”

Jisung’s face stretched into a smile. His left hand reached up to rub the back of his neck, feeling as though it was useless otherwise. “Thank you. I probably will.”

When Jisung disappeared into the ocean of black suits and gold dresses, Minho beamed. He did it.

Okay, so he _definitely_ liked Han. So what did he do now?

. . .

If Minho was being honest, after Han left he found he couldn’t really focus on anything. The night grew darker outside the plain glass windows on the second story, and time was passing leaving Minho with only a blur of golden lights, glittery diamantes, obnoxious offers, and unwanted hands on the shoulders of his suit.

He was ready to go home.

The problem was, Minho came to this decision as he was talking to a representative for Alfa Romeo, so it wasn’t the best time for him to make his escape.

“... so where is your manager? Could I discuss it with him now, or is a phone call recommended?”

Minho can’t help the way his upper lip curls in distaste at the man’s clear acting. His ‘interest in Minho’ might have been harder to distinguish as a facade if Minho hadn’t seen this man trying to chat up Changbin earlier. 

Minho was a second choice.

Clearing his throat, Minho straightened his expression. “Neither my manager nor I am interested in your offer, have a nice night, Mr. Alfa Romeo.”

The man’s shock couldn’t have been more comical if he tried, his pasty skin growing even paler at Minho’s arrogance. “B-but it’s _Alfa Romeo_! How-”

Minho had already disappeared back into the crowd, knowing he needed to get out of there before he regretted his decision. Too late, but still. 

Searching for a gap between the never lessening quantity of people, Minho found his eyes drawn to a stairwell that led to the second story, and consequently, the balconies above the dining room. From there, he would be able to see Seungmin _and_ get away from the masses of people on the floor. 

_Perfect._

The stairs were coated in a dark blue carpet, presumably to match the colour of all of the other furniture in the venue, and Minho lifted his eyes from the staircase so his slightly inebriated self wasn’t hypnotised by the shifting patterns.

At the top of the stairwell, there was a small, sheltered corridor that extended to the far end of the dining hall, and jutting out from the wall was a theatre box style balcony. It was lined with blue curtains, that Minho subconsciously tried to knock on before realising how dumb he was and raising his voice, hoping it would be heard over the chatter from downstairs.

“Hello?”

No answer.

“Can I come in?”

No answer.

Minho tugged the curtains open, to discover a woman lying unconscious, abandoned wine glasses on the table next to her. _Yikes._

Considering leaving, Minho quickly dismissed that idea, not wanting a potential death on his hands. He shifted into the booth, and placed a hand on the woman’s stark white suit shoulder, trying to wake her.

“Excuse me, ma'am? Are you-”

The woman’s eyes shot open, her pupils struggling to focus on the person above her. "I- whatsh do you want?"

"I, uh... I was wondering if you were okay? You- there's a lot of alcohol in here, I just-"

She snorted, swaying unsteadily into a sitting position. "Oh, so first you wake me up and now you jushh- jussh me? You look like the type to..."

Minho waited for a few moments for her to recollect her thoughts, his brow furrowed.

The woman's eyes found Minho's face again, and her expression of frustration turned into something he couldn't read. She then launched forward at him, pushing him back onto the seats before stumbling towards the doorway. 

Yelling something incomprehensible but probably meaningful over her shoulder, the woman burst out of the booth and apparently forgot about the event that just happened, as Minho didn’t hear her screaming as she presumably headed back downstairs.

Minho stood stunned for a moment, wondering briefly if he should go after her but ultimately deciding against it. He slumped down into the chair, trying to make sense of what just happened.

“Minho?”

His confused eyes flickered up to the face in the doorway.

It was amused, pink lips pulled into a half-smile. It was pretty.

It was Han.

Minho straightened upon the realisation. “Han? Uh, I mean, hi! Again.”

Jisung let himself into the booth, his eyes falling on the empty wine glasses all over the table. “Jeez, how are you still conscious?”

Minho cast his gaze to the table Jisung was studying before raising his hands in alarm. “T-that wasn’t me, I swear.”

Jisung laughed, a real, attention-grabbing sound. Minho watched as he sat down on the seats across from Minho, the light of the chandeliers trickling through the open window of the booth that overlooked the hall. “I know, I know. I saw that lady. Speaking of that, what did you do? Are you really that bad at kissing?”

Minho leaned back into the couch, rolling his eyes. “I’m that bad at kissing _girls_.”

Jisung’s eyes widened a little, and Minho felt his cheeks heat up, although it wasn’t the alcohol doing that. This was the test; if Han ran away in disgust, Minho’s heart would probably shatter to a million pieces. If he stayed in the booth, Minho’s heart would probably explode. It was already racing way faster than it should be.

Minho studied Jisung’s expression with worried eyes for the space of a few seconds, before Jisung’s face broke out into a beautiful smile. _Not helping my heart, Han._

“I had no idea! I was just joking… wow, I really thought you were straight for a moment there.”

Minho’s face heated further, and he raised an empty wine glass to his cheek, too embarrassed to care about his manners. “Yeah, that’s crazy.”

Jisung seemed to notice Minho’s discomfort, and leaned back against the velvet chair before speaking with a smirk and a lazy slur in his words. “I’m not exactly straight myself.”

_Well, fuck. It’s okay, I didn’t need my heart anyway._

“O-oh. That’s cool.”

From his place drowning in the dark blue velvet cushions, Jisung’s lips quirked again, his intoxication making him far more confident. He quoted Minho’s words from earlier on in the evening, when both of them were sober and rational. “Really? Just ‘that’s cool’?”

Unable to keep himself from laughing, Minho was suddenly not even remotely nervous. Han Jisung was funny. 

Minho wanted to be this happy all the time.

Minho’s mouth spoke without him able to stop it, his laughter pushing him forward. “Well, what do you want me to do? Kiss you?”

Minho’s giggles trailed off when he felt Jisung’s warm eyes on the side of his face. He glanced up slowly to find Jisung’s pupils were dilated and slightly unfocused, almost as though he had had a little too much to drink. Now that Minho thought about it, Han had been slurring his words slightly more than usual.

“Han?”

Jisung shook his head, as though trying to wake himself up. “Uh, yeah, sorry?”

“How much have you had to drink?”

The younger’s expression was contemplative, as though he was just as confused about his current state as Minho was. “Only two glasses of wine. You know, that one that I just drank before? And then another.”

Minho was hit with a realisation. He smiled around his teasing words. “So you’re a lightweight then, huh?”

Jisung sat up to defend himself, before paling slightly and slumping back down. “N-no.”

Minho frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just tired. And maybe a teeny-weeny _tiny_ bit tipsy. Yeah, Binnie said not to drink anything, but I don’t usually listen to him.”

_Binnie? Oh. Changbin._ “Uh, is there anything I can do?”

Jisung frowned, raising a silver ringed finger to his lip as he thought. Minho’s eyes fell to the glittery choker around his neck again, and observing quietly as it shifted on Han’s golden skin, matching his breathing. Minho swallowed.

After a moment of silence, or as silent as it could be at a Formula One after party, Jisung raised his line of vision, his eyes resting back on Minho’s face. “Well, I _was_ going to find Bin or Felix, but I think I’d rather hang out with you.”

Minho blinked, remembering exactly why he came up here in the first place. It was incredibly easy to be distracted by Han. He’d completely forgotten his own wishes to go home, now completely absorbed by Jisung’s dark, reflective eyes and tongue slipping out across his lips. “Oh- I- yeah. Same.”

Jisung’s unreadable expression faltered, his words sounding slightly vulnerable. “You were going to find Felix?”

Confusion hit Minho as he leaned forward to place the empty wine glass back on the table. “Huh? No- I meant to say I was going to find _Seungmin_. My, my manager.”

Relief floods Han’s face, though Minho can’t figure out why. “Oh. Yeah, that checks out.”

Minho studied Han again, trying to get a read on just how inebriated the younger was, but also as an excuse to look at him again. “If you aren’t used to drinking, it might be better if you go home. Do… do you want me to help you find Changbin?”

Jisung perked up at the idea, his eyes alight with excitement. “That sounds fun.”

Taking Minho by surprise for about the billionth time since he met the young racer, Jisung stood, offering his hand which Minho accepts dazedly before being dragged out of the booth.

. . .

Jisung led the way through the crowd of people towards Changbin, the alcohol in his system numbing what would have been his usual anxiousness of being so close to other people. He knew Minho was somewhere behind him, so he wasn’t too bothered. Call him crazy, but his drunk self trusted Minho, even though he didn’t know him. 

“Han, slow down! You might hurt someone.”

Jisung slowed at the sound of Minho’s smooth voice, slightly jealous that Minho was still completely coherent even despite the fact he had drunk far more than Han had. It seemed as though nothing could hinder the older’s perfect image. 

Jisung would have hated it. But it was _very_ hard to hate Minho, especially when he laughs and talks and _exists_.

Changbin was gone from where Jisung had seen him, and Jisung immediately stopped in his tracks, causing Minho to bump into him from behind. “Oof- Han? What’s wrong?”

Jisung groaned, glancing around the area in the hopes of catching sight of his best friend again. “Changbinnie’s gone.”

Minho scanned the area and came to the same conclusion. “Oh. Where, though?”

Jisung shrugged, but then his eyes fell on a doorway in the wall, leading to one of the private parlours. “Maybe in there?”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

Minho swallowed, trying to work out the best way to explain it to Jisung without it coming off as crude. “Well, those are more for people who… want to do things that should remain private at a high profile event like this.”

Jisung scrunched up his nose. “Ew.”

Minho nodded. “Yeah. It’s pretty informal. Not the kind of thing I’d be caught doing.”

There’s a moment’s pause, and Minho found his eyes falling back onto Han’s face, trying to get a read on what the younger was thinking. Jisung studied the doorway, before looking back up at Minho with wide, bottomless eyes. “Not even to get that kiss from before?”

Minho flushed more severely this time, stumbling over his words. He kind of hoped that it wasn’t just drunk Jisung suggesting these things, because little did the rookie know, he would _willingly_ ignore his morals if Minho had the chance to kiss him. “I- you- I… wou-”

“Jisung?”

The pair spun at the sound of a familiar voice, one that was paired with a man in a full black suit and a slit in his eyebrow.

Jisung beamed. “Binnie! We found you!”

Changbin fought to keep Jisung from embracing him. “Jisung, are you _drunk_? Also, we?”

Minho raised a hand and Changbin’s eyes filled with recognition. He studied Minho and his still red ears skeptically. “Lee Minho. So you were the one who let him drink?”

Minho grimaced, realising how guilty he must look right now. “Sorry, I couldn’t exactly stop him. He just… chugged an entire glass. And then had some more later on, apparently.”

Changbin’s eyes widened at Jisung’s mischievous grin. “What!?”

Jisung wiggled his eyebrows, running a hand through his hair and messing it in all angles. “Whatcha gonna do about it, Binnie?”

“That’s it. We’re going home.”

Grinning wider, a smug expression overcame Jisung’s face. “Well, well, well. Mission accomplished.”

Changbin tried to stop a smile forming on his face, glancing up at Minho as he pulled his phone from his pocket. “Thanks for looking after him, Lee. I expect less alcohol involved next time, of course.”

Minho snorted. “Han Jisung is an adult. He can make his own choices.”

Jisung raised a finger, a wise, almost sage-like lilt to his tone. Minho was beginning to like drunk Jisung almost as much as sober Jisung. “Yeah, but you still need to monit- monetise me? Anyway, I have _very_ low impulse control.”

Changbin sighed and nodded knowingly, before raising the phone to his ear. Minho laughed silently again, very happy he had decided to stay at this party.

Seungmin’s voice cut through the slowly lessening chatter. Everyone was getting ready to go, and luckily, it appeared as though no one had noticed a particular rookie affectionately assaulting his manager. “Minho?”

Minho waved him over, and Seungmin smiled, a curious light in his eyes when he saw who Minho was standing with. 

He nodded at Jisung, who paused what he was doing and nodded back with a terrible attempt at a composed expression, but Changbin was too absorbed in his phone call and keeping Jisung away from him to notice the new arrival. 

Minho didn’t notice the way his eyes lingered on the older for a couple seconds, before Seungmin turned to Minho, his soft brown eyes brimming with the calm energy he was known for. “Ready to go, Know?”

“Yeah.”

Jisung blew Minho a kiss as the older turned to leave, his right eye scrunching into what Minho presumed was a wink. “Bye, Minho. Thanks for keeping me company~”

Minho couldn’t help the delirious smile growing on his face as Seungmin disappeared back into the crowd, leading the way to the exit. He returned Jisung’s dramatic kiss with a wink of his own. “See you in Monaco, monster rookie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \-----END OF AMERICA ARC-----
> 
> ...hey  
> hope you guys enjoyed the chapter and are staying safe and healthy!!
> 
> I'm going to be taking a break for a little while, maybe a week or so, after my classes chill tf out a little, but the first chapter of the monaco arc is still unstarted and the interlude is half written... so basically, I'll be back at some point, i promise im not abandoning this fic!!!


	14. Interlude: What Happened At The Manager Course | Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seungmin takes part in a management course to get a American degree, which allow him to manage any racer he wants to. Changbin takes part in a management course to get a management degree that will let him become his best friend's mananger on top of being a race engineer.  
> Seungmin sits next to Changbin on the first day, and that changes Seungmin's life permanently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow that summary do be sounding like a YA romance synopsis though

**Two years earlier**

Changbin trailed a finger up and down the shadows on his wrist, marvelling at the way the sunlight had shaped the delicate leaves, so powerfully that they stood out on a student’s skin even through the window of the conference building. The shadows shifted slightly, presumably moving in time with the gentle summer breeze.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t remain in the world of soft sunshine forever. He was brought back to the present by the motion of someone pulling down the chair next to him, the action causing a gust of cool air but making no sound.

Changbin didn’t look up from his hands, which were rested on top of his notepaper, but when he didn’t receive an awkward greeting or even an acknowledgement, he couldn’t stop himself from tilting his head curiously. 

The boy who had seated next to him paid him no mind, busying himself with setting out his own papers on the pale wooden bench in front of them. His eyes were hard, a contrast to the softness of the rest of his appearance. A loose, pale brown fringe that rested just above his eyes, warm milky skin and faded pink lips that were set in a frown.

Changbin raised an eyebrow. This kid was young, maybe even younger than he was. He had to be pretty good to get into a management course like this.

The boy sighed, before finally finishing with getting comfortable and dragging his gaze off of the array of pens in front of him to meet Changbin’s. His expression upturned, dressing his frown with a polite smile that Changbin had no doubt would normally have worked. “Hi. Can I help you?”

Changbin snorted, not at all phased by being caught staring. He leant back, his black hair shifting into his eyes as he did so. “Nah, it’s all good. I just thought you were going to introduce yourself, like a person, you know.”

The boy’s eyes narrowed slightly, before he extended a hand. “Kim Seungmin. And you are?”

Changbin glanced down at the peace offering, before accepting the antiquated greeting. His hand fit into Seungmin’s well, and the other had a surprisingly firm grip. “Seo Changbin.”

After waiting for a few moments, Seungmin lowered his hand, and turned back to face the front, where the professor had finally made her entrance. Changbin assumed the exchange was over, though he couldn’t help but feel this wouldn’t be the last time he talked to Kim Seungmin.

Little did anyone involved in the Monaco Grand Prix team know, but Jisung was really lucky that Changbin cared so much about him as at the time, Changbin had had to decide whether he would become both Jisung’s manager and race engineer, or Jisung would end up with someone unaware of the younger’s various anxieties, which would make his debut year in the racing industry all the more terrifying. 

Sure, it was something that Jisung could have gotten used to, but Changbin had seen Chan come so close to crashing many times and if the same thing happened to Jisung because of an insensitive person on the other side of the radio, he would never forgive himself.

Changbin had spent his entire ‘university’ life studying race engineering, and in his opinion, he was pretty good. But he had yet to show himself in the industry, and when he did, there was no doubt he would draw attention for his multi-tasking of two of the most taxing jobs on the team.

Changbin wasn’t worried though. 

He could do it.

. . . 

Seungmin sighed, tugging out one of the artistic metal chairs in the cafe. After taking a seat, he slipped his notebook from his bag and brushed his hair from his eyes. 

This class was _nothing_ compared to his studies back home in Seoul, but if he wanted the job of being a manager to a rising star in America, he was required to have an American qualification under his belt. 

Running a finger over the indents in the paper, the parts he had jotted down a little too aggressively, he tried to read them. His brain soon grew bored though, demanding something more interesting to focus on. 

As if answering his cry for new content, a laugh drew his attention. Seungmin glanced up hesitantly, his eyes quickly finding the source. It was that boy from the class. Changbin?  
  


He couldn’t remember.

Changbin sipped from his coffee, clearly trying to cover from his laughing fit. The girl sitting across from him rolled her eyes before making a comment Seungmin couldn’t hear, but he assumed it was offensive due to the yell of indignance Changbin let out. 

Seungmin forced his eyes away from them to study his notes again, but he knew he wasn’t going to learn anything new from them. How had ‘Changbin’ already made friends?

It had never been that easy for Seungmin, and suddenly, he felt very alone up at the metal table. He was acting silly. He didn’t come to this course to make _friends_. 

But seeing Changbin so happy, as well as excelling in his class even as one of the youngest, Seungmin wondered whether it would really hurt.

. . .

It was during the third week of the course that Seungmin planned to approach Changbin (he says approach, but Changbin had been sitting near him the entire time), but his plans were foiled by an unexpected conversation.

The professor smiled at Seungmin’s answer. “That’s right, Mr Kim. Okay, so now that we’ve got the fundamentals down, we’re going to move into preparing for our first examination on management in the workplace...”

Once the teacher had finished talking about the upcoming test, she dished out papers and study pamphlets row by row. Being at the back, it was going to take longer for her to get to them, so Seungmin mustered up his courage and turned to face Changbin.

Apparently oblivious to Seungmin’s movement, Changbin raised his hand, the cuffs of the black over-sized sweater he was wearing sliding down his muscled forearm. The professor noticed it immediately and stepped quickly up the stairs. Seungmin’s words died in his mouth and he cast his gaze downwards while Changbin asked his question.

Changbin lowered his arm. “Uh, I just wanted to let you know that I’ve completed this exam before.”

The professor blinked. “Oh! You’re Seo Changbin! You were friends with Christopher Bang, right?”

Changbin smiled at the mention of Chan. “Yes, I am. So, do I have to complete this test or…?”

She shook her head, her blonde ponytail of hair bouncing as she did so. “No, if you’ve completed it. I could find you something else, if you’d like?”

Changbin bit his lip, contemplating his answer. “I… can I just skip ahead?”

“I’ll have to check with the administrator, actually. But I should be able to get back to you in a couple days?”

With a charming smile, Changbin nodded. “That sounds good. Thank you, miss.”

Seungmin glanced back up at his desk as the professor moved away, only to find a pamphlet resting on top of his notes. He had completed the same exam as well, but in Korea. So he wasn’t applicable to the same treatment Changbin had received.

Seungmin knew this wasn’t _Changbin’s_ fault but it still upset him enough to not wish to talk to him. 

Changbin clearly didn’t share the same feeling. His voice, as much as Seungmin hated to admit, was just as pleasant as his personality, and it bugged Seungmin that someone was beating him at his own game. 

“Hey. How are you feeling about the assessment?”

Seungmin grit his teeth, refusing to meet the elder’s eyes. “It sounds good.”

Changbin’s voice sounded puzzled at the strain in Seungmin’s tone. “Oh? Are you okay?”

Inhaling deeply, Seungmin tried his hardest to stay rational. He raised his eyes to meet Changbin’s. “Yeah, sorry. I just… I’ve done it before as well.”

You didn’t hear it from Seungmin, but Changbin’s face was prettier than he expected. The other boy's eyes and mouth were expressive, contrasting the generally unapproachable energy of the rest of his appearance. “You should ask her to skip it as well! I’m su-”

Seungmin sighed, dragging his eyes away. “I can’t. I took it in Seoul, so it doesn’t count for American standards.”

Disappointedly, Changbin leaned back into his chair. “Oh. Well, that sucks. Were you any good? You seem smart, and you’re really young…”

Seungmin couldn’t help but smile a bit. “Thank you. I… yeah, I’m pretty good at what I do. You’re clearly smart as well though. How old are you?”

Changbin paused for a second as he struggled to remember. “Hmm… 20? Yeah, 20 in America. Hey, you mentioned Seoul? I’m from there too!”

Collecting his belongings to his chest as the professor closed the lesson, Seungmin’s eyes widened. “Your English is impeccable though.”

Changbin snorted. “So is yours.”

His cheeks heating, Seungmin decided this had been enough human interaction for one day. “Thanks, Changbin. I’ll see you round, right?”

Changbin smiled at the younger as he stood up, and Seungmin felt the same happiness pass through him. Seo Changbin was just as cool as he thought. “Hopefully. Good luck, Seungmin-ah.”

Seungmin forgot he was meant to be annoyed at Changbin for having the advantage of an American education, the elder’s wishes of luck keeping him happy for the rest of the day. Maybe making friends wasn’t as hard as it originally had seemed.  
  


. . .

It was 4 months into the manager program that Changbin had his ‘brilliant’ idea.

Seungmin lay stretched out beneath the willow tree in the courtyard, flicking through pages of one of the psychology textbooks their teacher, Mrs Kim, had suggested to him. His hair shifted with the blades of grass as a breeze flitted through the branches of the tree above him. 

Haewon, the woman who Changbin had befriended on the first day of manager camp, had planted herself at the root of the tree, her legs crossed as she studied her own textbook. 

Changbin eyed Seungmin where he lay, and then sent a gaze towards Haewon, before deciding he was bored. He shoved Seungmin’s legs off his lap and stood, earning a noise of protest and a curious glance.

“We should do something fun.”

Haewon didn’t move, narrowing her eyes behind her gold framed glasses. “What do you mean?”

Changbin shrugged, brushing the grass of his elbow as he began to pace, scheming. Seungmin dropped the textbook onto his chest and followed Changbin’s movements with intrigue but also fear. 

“Well, we only have two months left, so we’ve got to do _something_ memorable. You know, something we can joke to our crews in the future.”

Haewon placed the book in her hands on the ground as she considered Changbin’s words. Changbin, knowing he had pretty much already won her over, flicked his eyes over Seungmin’s face.

The youngest’s lip quirked upwards at Changbin’s mischievous expression, betraying him in the way that even if he disagreed now, Changbin would know how he really felt. 

The older continued anyway. “Well, Seungmin, you in?”

Seungmin closed his eyes, slotting his arms beneath his head in an attempt to play off his smile. “Depends on what we’re doing. I’m not getting arrested because of a dumb idea, Sir Seo.”

Haewon nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I agree with the kid.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes. “You’re not even that much older than me.”

As Changbin fell back into contemplative silence, Haewon clutched a hand to her chest, summoning a pained look to her face. “When you get to my age, Seungmin, you will realise the difference that five years can inflict upon a once youthful body.”

“Yeah, whatever you say, Hae.”

It took only a few moments after Seungmin gave up for Changbin’s contemplative face to morph into a smile, and the finger resting on his chin to raise into the air. “What if we had one of those bush things? Like the ones in movies?”

Seungmin deadpanned. “You mean camping.”

“No, no! I mean like with sparklers and campfires and stuff.”

Haewon nodded in understanding, her shoulder length dark hair moving with her. She nodded in understanding, of course, not agreement. “I think that sounds like it will end in a bushfire, maybe worse.”

Changbin paused for a second. “Actually, yeah. Good call.”

Seungmin frowned then, actually considering Changbin’s words. _Something memorable_ . _A big idea_.

When Seungmin snapped back to the present, Changbin’s face was inches from his own, dark eyes wide and brimming with curiosity. “So whatcha got, Min?”

Seungmin faltered, before sitting up and shoving Changbin onto his butt with a little more force than he intended, but he didn’t regret doing so. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Changbin winced, rubbing his lower back, but didn’t get up from where he was shoved, instead finding comfort in the shifting blue of the sky. “You’ve got an idea, I know it.”

“Sorry, I’ve got nothing.”

A silence followed Seungmin’s statement instead of an unamused noise from Changbin, causing both Seungmin and Haewon to study their friend, who looked as though he had just won the lottery.

Changbin sat up with a start, his smile wide with excitement. “The pier. At sunset.”

Seungmin was hesitant. “Expand, please?”  
  


“It’s really fucking cold, but that’s better! Imagine it; HaeSeungBin trio, jumping off a pier fully clothed… its beautiful. Symbolic of our determination, of our ambition-”

Haewon pulled a face. “Yeah, no. No cold water for me.”

Seungmin, on the other hand, absorbed the excitement on Changbin’s face and decided he wasn't going to destroy that. And hell, if it meant he could bully Haewon at the same time, he was all in.

“Sounds like a plan, Bin.”

Haewon gasped. “Seungmin! I thought I could trust you! How DARE you shift sides!”

Changbin snorted, sitting back up and wrapping his arms around Seungmin before wiggling his eyebrows at her. “He’s all mine, witch.”

“YOU-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyyyy  
> hope you guys enjoyed 1 of 3 interlude chapters  
> seungbin dynamic: to die for  
> i am having a CRISIS with deciding a major plot point between these two right now  
> if you wanna help, you can dm me on instagram: oh_cxnada cause i think you guys will have better judgement than i will cause im kinda biased  
> 


	15. Interlude: What Happened at The Manager Course Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was over the last month of the manager course that Seungmin came to realise that that jump from the pier would not be the last time he fell. Falling into cold water had woken him up enough for him to realise he was also falling in love.
> 
> In love with a boy.
> 
> In love with Changbin.

It was one month before they executed Changbin’s grand idea. That meant it was one month before they parted ways, off to manage the best racers in the world (or at least Seungmin hoped).

Seungmin had taken about five steps away from Haewon’s car by the time he began to regret his life decisions. Haewon ducked behind him, using him as shelter from the wind as they scanned the pier for Changbin.

Haewon hissed as she rubbed her bare arms, the singlet top she was wearing offering no warmth. “If that fucker doesn’t show up, I’m going to kill him.”

Seungmin laughed through clenched teeth, trying to stop himself from shivering, his own quick-dry shirt no better than if he was standing there naked. “He’ll be dead before you even get to him. I’m quick.”

It was then that Seungmin had his attention drawn to a figure jogging down the hill, a silhouette against the grass that was not easily swayed by the chilly air. He heard Changbin before he could make out the expression on his face. 

“LET'S DO THIS!”

All of a sudden, Changbin was there, wrapping a hand around Seungmin’s wrist and tugging him towards the wooden pier. Haewon snatched his other hand and there really was no turning back.

Breathy laughter, the echo of their feet against the wood below them.

The bite of cold air, his heartbeat in his ears.

The golden glare off of the lake, the silhouettes of trees against the orange and yellow sky. Changbin ahead of him, smile bright and painfully so. Seungmin was suddenly warm, brimming with the same energy that Changbin radiated.

And they were off the edge, the fall feeling as though it is taking forever but passing in seconds.

Seungmin was submerged, the water invading every area of warmth and changing it into something far more similar to its own temperature. He was cold, but it didn’t matter.

Haewon surfaced seconds after Seungmin, her face shocked but laughing deliriously. “Jesus c-christ, Changbin, its fucking COLD.”

Changbin floated next to Seungmin, the smile on his face somehow not erased. His black hair was wet, so long that although it clung to his forehead, he had to reach up and push in back out of his eyes. “I told you.”

Haewon spluttered as she continued to laugh, and Seungmin pulled her closer so that she didn’t drown herself. She latched onto him like a limpet. Seungmin struggled to stay above water, but couldn’t help his own smile to surface despite the fact that his limbs were on fire. “Let's get out of here.”

Changbin nodded. “Yeah, good call.”

After dragging themselves out of the water, and racing each other back to where Haewon’s car was parked illegally by the lake, numb limbed and breathless, Haewon revealed the thermos of hot chocolate she had brought with her. She immediately became the favourite.

Seungmin shifted further into the boot of Haewon’s car, clutching the thermos between icy fingers and holding his blankets to his chest. Haewon followed suit, and then Changbin, who was quick to snuggle into Haewon’s side. Seungmin averted his eyes.

“W-well. That was _mental_.”

Changbin laughed, though the sound was muffled by the blankets he was wrapped in. He rested his head on her shoulder. “It was fun though, right?”

Haewon sipped her chocolate, and although she shook her head, a small smile grew on her lips. “Sure, Bin.”

Changbin studied Seungmin from across the small gap between them, the boot somehow big enough to allow that space. Seungmin’s face was pale, but his eyes were still glowing with adrenaline. “How bout you, Minnie? Was it worth it?”

Seungmin smiled. “Yeah, I reckon. But I am _never_ doing that shit again, got it?”

Changbin pouted. “Aw, no fun.”

Haewon sighed, shaking her head at the younger pair as they argued. “I’m so glad I met you two. You guys make me… make me feel like a kid again.”

Seungmin shifted slightly, slipping his legs beneath him in an attempt to warm them faster. “You aren’t old, Hae.”

Haewon grimaced slightly, causing Changbin to watch her worriedly. “Sometimes I feel it though. It’s been so long since I left school, and it feels like that version of me is light-years away. I haven’t felt this, I don’t know, _free_ since then. Thank you.”

Seungmin took one hand off of his hot chocolate and extended it across the gap. Haewon extended her own and threaded her fingers through Seungmin’s. “It’s our pleasure.”

Changbin smiled. “You guys are the best.”

Seungmin released Haewon’s hand to smirk at Changbin. “Of course. It’s Kim Seungmin you’re talking to.”

His eyes soft, filled with a fondness that made Seungmin’s smirk drop and insides flip, Changbin murmured a reply. “You’re right. Kim Seungmin is the best.”

Haewon shoved Changbin off her shoulder. “Yah! What about me!”

Changbin shrieked, then faking a groan as he slumped against the wall of the car in ‘pain’. “I- I, argh, it hurts. Mum, Haewon is bullying me~”

Seungmin rolled his eyes, brushing off the butterflies in his stomach and taking another sip of his hot chocolate.

. . .

It was over the last month of the manager course that Seungmin came to realise that that jump from the pier would not be the last time he fell. Falling into cold water had woken him up enough for him to realise he was also falling in love.

In love with a boy.

In love with Changbin.

It all became clear when he began to pay more attention to the little things; the way his cheeks heated when Changbin leaned in a little too close when they studied together at the dormitories, or when the inseparable trio went out to lunch at Seungmin’s mind would convince him to sit in the seat closest to Changbin. 

Or the way that Seungmin went out of his way to make Changbin laugh, even if Changbin was the self-proclaimed funny one of the group, and when he succeeded, he found he ran dry of words, bracing Changbin as he folded in half with hysterical laughter.

See the thing is that although Seungmin is falling in love with Changbin, Seungmin had the strongest sense that Changbin was not doing the same for him. 

Seungmin sat at the back of the lecture room as usual, drawing doodles across one of his empty pages as he counted all the reasons as to why he felt Changbin was untouchable. The only other sound in the classroom was the ticking of the clock at the front, reminding Seungmin he had gotten up far too early today and despite the fact final examinations were fast approaching, the teacher still had an hour before starting the study lecture.

His brow furrowed slightly. 

Well, first of all, Seungmin didn’t even know that he himself liked boys. Changbin had to be the first real person that Seungmin knew for certain he had feelings for. It didn’t help that he didn’t have a clue how to deal with these feelings.

Secondly, he has no _idea_ whether Changbin was attracted to males, but he knew the older wasn’t attracted to him. This isn’t Seungmin being a pessimist; they were friends, platonic. At least that’s how Seungmin reads their interactions.

But Seungmin is no longer as sure he understands emotions as well as he thought he did.

Thirdly, Changbin was way too nice and in control of his life for Seungmin. Although he maintained a collected and polite aura, Seungmin had never had many friends in Korea aside from Jeongin, and he really had no idea what he was going to do after this course other than put his name and scores out there and hope.

Although Changbin was _very_ intimidating, he was seemingly friends with everyone and no wonder. After you move past the scary part, Changbin was just a muscular stick of candyfloss. _  
  
_

And on the topic of plans, Changbin, when prompted, would talk about his best friend who he clearly loved a lot, Jisung, and his talent. Seungmin didn’t have anyone like that, except maybe Jeongin, but it would be a while before he got to see his best friend again.

All that is evidence; Changbin should get to be in a relationship with someone who has their life together. That someone is not yet Kim Seungmin.

Fourthly-

“Hey, Min.”

Seungmin startled from staring blankly at his notebook, his eyes flickering up to meet Changbin’s face. 

The older’s dark brown hair was messier today, probably a change caused by the black cap Changbin held in his hand. It was parted ever so slightly in the middle, exposing a strip of pale forehead, and his fringe hung into his eyes, but that wasn’t what caught Seungmin’s attention.

Changbin wore a soft, pink sweatshirt, the cuffs of which formed a sweater paw over his hand as he brushed Seungmin’s own hair out of his face with an amused smile. 

Seungmin croaked, knowing he still looked half asleep and he could pretend that that was the reason he had to catch his breath. “Hey, Bin. You’re… here early.”

Changbin dropped himself down next to Seungmin, before resting his head in his hand and studying Seungmin’s weary features. “I knew you were coming in early today, so I wanted to come keep you company.”

Seungmin frowned, rubbing his eyes as he spoke. “How’d you know?”

Changbin laughed, raising an eyebrow. “Min, you start getting up earlier before every big exam, and this one is our biggest yet. I’m surprised you didn’t start doing this last week.”

“Oh. Okay, that makes sense.”

With an irritating grin, Changbin delivered his next words. “Aren’t you gonna thank me for coming?”

Seungmin rolled his eyes and slapped Changbin’s arm slightly. “You’re so annoying.”

Changbin whined but it was obvious he was still waiting for Seungmin to admit he was grateful. Seungmin sighed in defeat, knowing Changbin wouldn’t take long to get it out of him anyway. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, handsome. Anyways, wanna study or something?”

“Do I look like I need your help?”

Changbin pursed his lips as he considered the rhetorical question. “Hmm… yes? You look young, innocent, and tired. But if I was to base it off my knowledge of you, I would say that you don’t _need_ my help, but I could give it to you if you want it.”

Seungmin flared up before deflating into a puddle of longing when Changbin got to his point. He sighed, reaching a hand across the gap between them to pinch Changbin’s cheek. “Okay, Binnie. But I think we should work together on this one. I can help you, you can help me.”

Slapping Seungmin’s hand away, Changbin looked puzzled. “Isn’t that how we always do it?”

Pretending he couldn’t hear the question, Seungmin set about pulling up his notes and textbook, and Changbin quickly forgot he had even asked anything. 

Seungmin knew that was how they always did it. He just felt that sometimes, he was the only one getting anything, and he wanted to be someone who gives as well.

. . .

It was only a day until the HaeSeungBin trio parted ways for good when Seungmin decided to ignore his own feelings for the better of, well, everyone.

Haewon slung her arm around Seungmin’s neck as they walked to the campus cafe, leaning up a little to reach him properly. She grinned and used her other hand to ruffle his hair. “I’m so proud of you, Min! I knew you could do it.”

Seungmin’s face was straight, adjusting the shoulder strap of his navy blue bag. “I vividly remember you telling me that Changbin was going to get top marks and then you exchanging _money_ with him right in front of my face.”

Haewon scratched her head as she released him. “I don’t remember that at all. When was this?”

Seungmin rolled his eyes, a proud smile tugging at the corners of his lips again. He had placed first in the course; the youngest, and the first. The first person he forwarded his letter to was Haewon, because he knew she would run to his dorm in minutes and shower him in the praise he wanted, even if she had lost ten dollars. He forwarded it to Jeongin afterwards, but he didn’t expect a reply from his friend until later, when it was a reasonable hour in Korea.

He offered to treat Haewon to lunch in compensation for her losing the bet to Changbin and Changbin said he would meet them at the cafe, where he would later inform them that although he was second in the grade, Seungmin’s marks were untouchably high.

Haewon slipped her arm through Seungmin’s with a blinding smile as they walked down the stairs, minding her step as they went down. Her grades were among the best as well, and as far as Seungmin could tell, she was over the moon about everything that had gone down. “So, how are you feeling?”

Seungmin hummed, actually considering the question. “Excited. Nervous. Sad… I’m gonna miss you guys.”

Haewon patted his arm comfortingly, a confident flare in her eyes. “Don’t worry, Min. I’m sure we’ll all see each other all the time once you and Changbin get to my level of management and get your racers into the best competitions. And you can message me any time!”

Seungmin smiled softly as they headed towards the glass doors, still arm in arm. “I guess you’re right about that.”

“You guess? Of _course_ I’m right, silly.”

As Seungmin opened the door for Haewon, the natural sounds of the university campus, the park, and water fountain were blended out by the quiet chatter inside the cafe. 

It was a pleasant aesthetic, with the distant clatter of plates in the kitchen, laughter coming from the students of the various other programs that had no doubt finished at the same time as the management course. The whir of the coffee machine, the ping of a phone. The call of an order at the counter that Seungmin and Haewon approached before starting their search for-

“Changbin?”

The older man didn't notice the pair at the counter until he was slipping his cup out of the woman’s hand with a smile and turning back to his seat. 

When his eyes fell on them his smile stretched even further.

All of the air was knocked out of Seungmin’s lungs as Changbin squeezed them both into a tight hug, somehow encircling them both with his strangely muscular arms and avoiding spilling his fresh coffee at the same time. 

Haewon was the first to break free from his hold, Changbin’s energy contagious. She punched him lightly in the arm, her normally more collected expression washed away with an all out, dimpled smile. “Hey, loser.”

Changbin tutted her as a man stepped up to the counter on the other side, took one look at Changbin and Haewon and turned to Seungmin for his order. Seungmin managed to drag his eyes away from his friends to order his and Haewon’s favourites, plus something extra for Changbin.

“If I remember correctly, _you're the_ loser. Seungmin topped class, as I expected, and I’m ten dollars richer. It’s a good day, man.”

Haewon rolled her eyes, turning back to seek Seungmin’s support only to find he was swiping his card to pay for their order. Her eyes widened. “Ya! Kim Seungmin! You’re actually paying?!”

Seungmin led the pair to a table at the back, as it appeared neither of the other two were planning on leaving the counter without him. “Yes? Of course, I offered.”

Haewon mumbled as she slumped herself in the chair across from Seungmin, slipping her bag into her lap and hugging it to her chest. “Well, I wasn’t expecting you to actually follow through. I mean, I wouldn’t. Wow, it sucks to be surrounded by good people.”

Changbin laughed, tugging his white face mask off now that the other two were present to talk to. His eyes sparkled as his gaze set on Seungmin. Seungmin felt exposed suddenly, and he glanced down shyly.

“Congratulations, Mr Kim.”

Seungmin felt his cheeks heat. “You too, Seo.”

Changbin grinned. “Well, this is a fantastic outcome right? You get to be top at management, I’ll stick to engineering as my main focus and Haewon can… Haewon can…”

Haewon punched him in the shoulder. “Screw you, Seo. I got brilliant grades as well, and I’ve already received an offer to manage this new kid racer in China. So… I’ll be the hired one.”

Chingbin’s eyes widened at that. “No _way_! Ugh, nevermind, of course, you were hired. You’re too good to be unemployed.”

Haewon crossed her arms across the front of her creamy blouse, a smug expression on her face. “I think that’s the smartest thing you’ve ever said, Changbin.”

Seungmin shook his head, smiling at Haewon’s attitude. “It seems to be a day of success for all of us then. Worth celebrating with an entire red velvet cake, you think?”

Haewon’s eyes snapped to Seungmin before her face transformed and she stood up. “Kim Seungmin, you did not.”

Changbin studied Seungmin’s face for a few seconds before decoding the younger’s expression behind his glasses. “Oh, he _definitely_ did.”

“Uh, Seungjin? No, sorry Seungmin?”

Haewon tried to grab Seungmin into her infamously painful hugs but he was already gone, biting his lip as he retrieved the order to keep himself from laughing.

The morning, and then into the afternoon was spent in the back corner of the cafe, the sunlight through the glass storefront keeping them warm. It took them a long time to finish eating the cake, but they did it, which was more than Seungmin had expected. After that, despite how happy they all were, there was something bittersweet about it all, an end to something so life-changing.

Haewon left with a kiss on their cheeks and her numbers left in their phones so she could keep in contact with them from China. That left Seungmin and Changbin to wander back to the dorms in the late afternoon sunlight, walking just close enough that Seungmin’s hand would brush Changbin’s every few steps.

Changbin smiled at Seungmin as he studied the leaving students, amused by how curious the younger seemed about people’s desperation to be away from the program once and for all. Seungmin didn’t feel the eyes on him until Changbin spoke, and then he could no longer focus on anything else.

“Whatcha thinking, Min?”

Seungmin tilted his head back contemplatively as they walked towards the staircase up ahead. “Hmm… goodbyes, I guess.”

Changbin clicked his tongue. “That’s fitting, considering, well, everything.”

Sighing, Seungmin nodded. “Yeah.”

Hearing the sadness in his friend's tone, something weary and something he never wanted to hear in Seungmin’s voice again, Changbin tried to cheer him up. He bumped his hip against Seungmin’s. “You wanna race back?”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow. “Do I _look_ like I want to race back, Changbin.”

It wasn’t a question. “Uh… then how about we take a detour then?”

Seungmin tried to make it look as though he needed to think about the offer, though god knows he would drop pretty much anything if it meant he got to have a few final hours with Seo Changbin before the time came to distance himself. “Okay. What have you got in mind?”

Changbin just grinned mysteriously, before beckoning Seungmin with one hand and walking off the pathway, heading towards the lake. 

“Seo, I’m not jumping off a pier again.”

Changbin laughed. “Fair enough. Not what I had in mind though.”

Seungmin walked alongside Changbin, matching his pace easily with the advantage of long legs. “Well, what do you have in mind then?”

Changbin frowned. “Uh, not really sure actually. Did I at least look like I had any idea what I was doing?”

Seungmin snorted. “Yeah, you pulled off the suspicious serial killer vibe pretty well. I’m half-convinced you’re going to push me into the lake and leave me to drown.”

Changbin whined. “Ya, Kim Seungmin, I would _never_.”

“Yeah, I’d kinda hope so.”

When they reached the bikers track by the lake, the pair realised that there really wasn’t much to do except sit and watch the sun as it sunk lower in the sky. 

Seungmin sat on the grass, playing with the few pebbles Changbin had placed next to him on the older’s search for rocks to skim. Changbin had located himself by the waters edge, not wanting to enter the dark waters but still keen on tossing rocks into the further parts of the lake. 

There was a satisfying noise as Changbin lobbed another rock out into the depths of the lake, before he stood, smiling back at Seungmin. Seungmin raised a hand to shelter his eyes, unable to see Changbin due to the glare of light of the lake that was slowly getting pinker.

“Did you see how far that went!?”

Seungmin shook his head, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Nope, sorry.”

Changbin groaned. “Seungmin~ I’m never going to be able to throw it that far again.”

There was no remorse in Seungmin’s voice. “Awww.”

Changbin glared at him before closing the distance, running up the shore to shove Seungmin back into the grass for his lack of enthusiasm. Seungmin laughed breathlessly as Changbin leaned over him. “Ya, show some disappointment! You missed out on the moment of a lifetime!”

Seungmin collected himself and blinked innocently at Changbin, heart racing and glasses skewed sideways from Changbin’s attack. “I’m so sorry, Changbin, I’ll watch next time.”

Changbin, seemingly satisfied with the answer, released Seungmin from his hold and stood up, wiping his hands as though he had been working hard. “You better be. Unfortunately though, Minnie, I think we should head back. It’s gonna start getting cold soon.”

Seungmin felt his heart drop, sinking further than it had been all day. “Oh. Yeah, you’re right.”

Changbin extended a hand, helping Seungmin to his feet. “Let’s get out of here.”

The walk back to the dorms was quiet, but somewhat comfortable. Seungmin didn’t know what to do with his heart and his head wanting two different things.

His heart, being the foolish and reckless thing it is, was telling him, no, _begging_ him to confess his feelings. To tell Changbin that he wanted desperately to hold his hand, to kiss him.

But his brain said don’t. Keep it to yourself. He had been over a list of why he couldn’t before, and that list was still accurate. 

The intersection below the dormitories was where they said goodbye, and Seungmin felt like crying. Changbin didn’t look too happy either, but being an optimist meant that he still talked about how they would hang out in the future, in a time when they both had successful careers and were off to some crazy competition. 

They came to a stop by the oak tree at the join in the two concrete walkways, the air around them tightening in synchrony with Seungmin’s lungs. Changbin turned to him, his eyes missing any of their usual spark. “Well. I guess this is it.”

Seungmin swallowed, pressing his cold palm to the back of his neck, trying to look casual. “Yeah.”

Changbin inhaled, before embracing Seungmin, who quickly melted into the hug. Changbin’s chin hooked over his shoulder, and he spoke slowly, as though he was trying not to scare Seungmin. It worked.

“I’m gonna miss you, Min. I don’t, in a million years want to lose a friend like you. Text me sometime, yeah?”

Seungmin nodded, his eyes screwed shut as Changbin pulled away. “Okay.”

  
Seungmin wasn’t going to ruin the moment; he would be satisfied, over the moon if he could simply remain friends with Changbin. He wasn’t going to be greedy. So he said nothing about the crush that had rapidly grown. He knew it would settle down. He just needed time.

“I’ll miss you too, Bin. Thank you. For everything.”

Changbin smiled, but a tear slipped from his eyes. He brushed it away, laughing half-heartedly. “Ah, shit, you’re making me cry, Seungmin.”

Seungmin’s smile was forced, a polite smile that worked on pretty much anyone. He raised a fist. “You’ll get over it. See you later, Sir Seo.”

Changbin bumped his fist against Seungmin’s. “Goodbye for now, Mr Kim.”

And that was the management program. But that wasn’t the end of this story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 👀👀👀  
> its ANGSTY I KNOW, i'm very sorry and i promise i'll make it up to you guys soon~  
> seungmin baby TT  
> the detour scene to the lake makes me soft?? I'm literally the one who wrote it?? Help??  
> btw haewon isn't an idol, so im sorry y'all can't google search to see what she looks like and have to go off my vague-ass descriptions (oops)  
> anyways, hope y'all enjoyed 2/3 interludes and im sorry for the angst hehe  
> ________________________________
> 
> instagram: oh_cxnada


	16. Interlude: What Happened After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the final interlude chapter is here; 3/3  
> i hope you guys enjoy!!

A year passed. 

They messaged, sometimes, but Seungmin’s feelings were still there. He had to focus on Minho, on his career. He distanced himself as best he could without being obvious, and soon enough, Changbin’s messages grew sparse. Haewon asked him, from time to time, whether he had replied, which told him Changbin had noticed. 

Seungmin knew he was a terrible person. But he didn’t want to hurt Changbin, make him feel uncomfortable, or mess up the memories they shared. Seungmin was too young to be making rational decisions yet.

Seungmin’s name was on the news alongside Minho’s, for winning and then after a year had passed, for a career-changing crash.

Another year passed.

Changbin’s name was on the news alongside his beloved Jisung’s, and for all the right reasons. Seungmin’s love had faded like he wanted, seeping away like the colour from a pair of cheap jeans. But now they couldn’t even call themselves friends.

They never met up, like the trio had planned, at a grand competition with their famous racers. Minho’s record was good, but not Monaco level, Haewon’s kid racer was still learning and Monaco seemed to be nothing more than a children’s dream for everyone except for Changbin and Jisung.

If Changbin had been there, and Seungmin had still been in love with him, he might have taken the leap. His life was somewhat together, nothing glamorous or world championship worthy, but he had grown up. He could make the right decisions and was confident with them.

But Seungmin knew it was too late for all that.

Now all he wanted was Changbin’s friendship, something he didn’t deserve.

And then the American Prelims happened, where Changbin found his way back into Seungmin’s life for the second time.

. . .

“ _I mean, Minho can do it, I think. I’m not a professional or anything but something has got him riled up again recently, Dandy, and that’s really all he was missing_.”

Seungmin leaned back in the chair, holding the phone to his face with his shoulder as he signed off something for the crew chief. “You aren’t wrong. But the people coming to the Finals are serious, Hwang. It’s going to be more than just a challenge, even with Minho’s better attitude. Also, we talked about the nicknames.”

Hyunjin’s laughter was obnoxious even through the phone. “ _I’d like to see you stop me, Dandy Boy._ ”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow, but smiled politely at the runner girl. She smiled back, before slipping the papers from the desk and walking off to where the others were packing up. 

“ _Anyways, where is my best friend?_ ”

Seungmin hummed. “Debrief with Anderson. Then I’ll drive him back to the hotel.”

Hyunjin snorted. “ _Okay, well, tell him to ca-_ ”

“Uh, Seungmin?”

All of Hyunjin’s words fell on death ears as Changbin’s voice rang out around the tent. Seungmin’s mouth dry, he dismissed Hyunjin. “Uh, I’m going to have to call you back, Jinnie.”

“ _Huh? Wh-_ ”

Seungmin placed his phone on the table, but refused to turn to face his old friend. “How can I help you?”

There was a shuffling of feet, the rustle of a windbreaker before Changbin spoke again. “Your racer entered our tent, verbally assaulted my racer and only left when threatened. I’d like you to keep a better eye on him, cause if this happens again-”  
  


Seungmin did spin at that, standing up and facing Changbin, his eyes wide with alarm. “He did _what?!_ ”

Changbin was just as short as Seungmin remembered, but he looked far stronger, his biceps evident through the red material of his _CREW CHIEF_ windbreaker. His face was no different, but his hair was shorter, resting at his eyebrows instead of falling into his eyes. He looked just as concerned as Seungmin was. “L-Lee Minho is yours right?”

“Yes. You know that.”

Changbin only just seemed to remember the incident on the way to prelims at that moment, the corners of his mouth bending downwards into a grimace. “Ah. Yeah.”

Seungmin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Okay. Well, I’ll be sure to reprimand him for this, please don’t go to the organisers about it. Good god, he’s going to kill me one day.”

Changbin nodded. “I won’t. Just… has he done this before?”

“No? Not that I know of.”

“Okay. I think it wasn’t entirely his fault then. Jisung did… continue the argument.”

Seungmin recognised Han’s real name, remembering it from the times Changbin mentioned him, two years ago. It felt like it had been centuries since then. “Oh, Jisung. Shall we just pretend this didn’t happen then?”

A flash of hurt made its way across Changbin’s face, and Seungmin realised how the words may have applied to their situation. “Yes. Let’s do that.”

Seungmin had a split second to stop Changbin from walking away permanently, and he took it, nearly tripping over his chair as he caught up to the other manager, wrapping his hand around his wrist. “Changbin, wait. Please.”

Changbin froze, closing his eyes. He didn’t turn to face Seungmin as the younger released him. 

Seungmin spoke hesitantly, unsure of what to say. He was sorry, sorry beyond words, but he wasn’t used to being at the receiving end of Changbin’s anger. But he wasn’t used to Changbin anymore either. “Changbin, I’m… I’m sorry. I never, ever intended to hurt you. I just… needed time.”

“Needed time to what?”

Seungmin continued. “Get my life together.”

Changbin turned back to face Seungmin, his eyes sincere and the frown on his face more sad than angry. “Your friends are there to _help_ you with things like that, Seungmin. I wanted to help you, and then you- you left.”

Seungmin inhaled sharply. “I just- I’m sorry. I want to explain myself, but it's hard. Now isn’t a good time, but please, let me do it. You deserve it.”

Changbin had always been so kind, soft like candy floss beneath his hardened exterior. He studied Seungmin’s face as though he had never seen it before, but he found nothing but genuine apology. He nodded. “Okay. Maybe another day? Our racers are both in the finals.”

Seungmin spoke shakily. “Yes. Thank you, Changbin.”

Changbin just smiled with his mouth, not his eyes, and walked back to his tent. Seungmin watched him go, the part of his heart dedicated to Changbin feeling lighter than it had in a long time. He may no longer be in love, but Seo Changbin had changed his life, and he would _always_ be grateful for that.

. . .

Seungmin had been in the dining room when a hand had tapped his shoulder. He turned, and this revealed the person he had been waiting for. He tried to keep his eyes on Changbin’s face, but it was hard when he was in a suit. Very hard.

“Changbin.”

Changbin nodded, unsmiling despite the fact that was all his heart wanted to do. “Seungmin.”

Seungmin placed his glass on the table hurriedly, before glancing around them. There were too many people here for him to confess to Changbin that he was, at one point, in love with him.

His eyes fell on the parlours at the edge of the room, and then flicked back to Changbin, who was waiting patiently for the explanation promised. Seungmin bit his lip, before reaching and slipping his fingers gently around Changbin’s wrist and guiding him away from the crowds of people scattered throughout the room.

Changbin had to walk a bit faster to keep up with Seungmin’s long strides, and his eyes widened as they passed into the parlours. “Uh, Seung-”

“I’ll explain soon enough.”

They came to a sudden stop in the middle of the room and Seungmin gestured to one of the red velvet couches. “Have a seat.”

Changbin sat down, still clearly confused and taking any guidance he’s given.

Seungmin took a deep breath of the musty air in the parlour, absorbing his surroundings before he spoke. 

Cologne, alcohol.

Distant clinking of glasses, heels on floor and laughter.

Tacky gold wallpaper, red velvet, glass tables and a chandelier that cast its shadow onto the person below it. Seo Changbin, in a black suit, hair pulled out of his face and a slit through his brow. He wasn’t mad anymore, or sad. Just waiting. Patient, as always.

Seungmin figured he should get to the point then work his way back from there. “I was in love with you.”

Changbin blinked. “What.”

“I’m not saying it again.”

One thousand questions flashed across Changbin’s face, but as Seungmin’s words set in, all that came out of his mouth was a pathetic _huh_.

Seungmin exhaled sharply, waiting for Changbin to regain his senses before he continued.

After a few moments, Changbin shook his head in disbelief. “Woah. Okay. Uh, when- I mean like, when did you know?”

Eying the couch carefully before he sat down, Seungmin answered casually, long having come to terms with his emotions towards Changbin. “I started noticing after the pier, and my feelings only got stronger from there on out.”

“Wow. You liked-loved me,” his eyes snapped up to Seungmin’s face, and although he was still trying to figure out what was happening, he still had the _nerve_ to smile, “Kim Seungmin was _in love_ with me.”

“Changbin.”

Changbin raised his hand in defense, before he seemed to realise why they were here. His smile faded a little, and his hands settled on the arm of the chair. He cleared his throat. “Right, sorry. Okay, so, you loved me. But why did you stop talking to me then? Why did you disappear?”

Seungmin wasn’t sure how he thought Changbin would react, but he certainly wasn’t expecting him to be so accepting of it. Now that he thought about it, of course Changbin was accepting it. It’s Changbin. “I didn’t stop talking to you.”

“Come on, Min, you know what I mean. Your text messages were so blunt that I thought I had fucked something up, and then you were just gone for good.”

Seungmin studied the ground, unable to meet Changbin’s eyes for longer than a few seconds, especially after his old nickname was used for the first time since management camp. His hands drew nervous patterns on the velvet on the armrest. “I… I thought that if I stayed away for long enough, my feelings would… go away. My life was so uncertain, and loving you made it hard for me to focus. I knew you didn’t like me like that, hell, you probably don’t even like guys, and I didn’t want to risk ruining a friendship. Which I ended up doing anyway, I guess. Woo. Go Kim Seungmin.”

Changbin leaned across the gap, a crease between his brows as he offered his hand. Seungmin counted the rings on it before placing his own into Changbin’s warm palm. He breathed slowly, before raising his gaze to Changbin’s face. All he found was comfort.

Changbin squeezed Seungmin’s hand. “It’s okay, Min. It’s okay. You were young, and falling in love at any age is a messy ordeal. I know how that feels. And yeah, you did kind of cut me off, which definitely wasn’t the best solution, but you know that now, right? ”

Seungmin smiled weakly. “Yeah, I do. It didn’t take long for me to realise I fucked up, but… I thought it was too late. That’s what I told Hae.”

“It’s never too late to apologise to me, Min. Never too late to feel sorry.”

Seungmin mumbled, his fidgety hands continuing to smooth down the velvet. “Yeah, well, I know that _now_.”

Withdrawing his hand, Changbin sat back, his smile still on his face. He chuckled, shaking his head. “Man, I wish you had told me you loved me then. I would have had a heart attack.”

Seungmin’s eyes widened. “Huh?”

“Oh! You thought I was straight, right?”

Seungmin nodded, not sure if his heart was going to keep beating throughout the night due to the amount of stress it’s under. His own grey suit felt too tight, the ruffled collar of his pale pink undershirt sticking to his neck.

Changbin continued. “I’m pan, actually.”

Smiling, Seungmin raised a hand to his gelled hair, swiping a strand from his forehead. “Wow. This is weird.”

Lips pursed, Changbin cocked his head to the side. “What is? My sexuality? Me?”

Seungmin laughed at the expression on Changbin’s face. “No, not your sexuality, and not, well, yes, you. Talking to you. I… it’s been too long, and it's one hundred percent my fault.”

Changbin frowned at the change in Seungmin’s emotions, almost having forgotten what had happened in the last two years. Changbin had been mad at Seungmin, but with such a raw explanation (or at least raw coming from Seungmin), he meant what he said. Seungmin had just chosen what he felt to be right at the time. “Hey. Seungmin.”

Seungmin looked up, gritting his teeth a little. Nervous.

“I forgive you, okay?”

Seungmin paused, before his eyes scrunched up with his smile. “I don’t deserve it, but thank you.”

Changbin shook his head. “There really is no reasoning with you. Haewon is probably still mad at you, though. She’ll need to have this explained to her in person, instead of over a phone call.”

Seungmin sighed, sitting back and releasing the velvet for the first time since he spoke his old feelings. “Yeah, she definitely was not happy about… all that went down but she still talks to me occasionally. She did always have a soft spot for you, you know. But so did I, obviously.”

Changbin laughed. “Are you kidding me? Haewon thought you were the shit, man, I was just there. And on top of that, I can’t name a single student in our class who didn’t have a crush on you.”

Seungmin was confused. “Why? I didn’t even _talk_ to anyone besides you and Hae!”

“Have you ever looked in a mirror? You’re so cute. And smart as heck, too.”

Cheeks reddening, Seungmin found himself looking down again, much to Changbin’s amusement. “Stop it, Seo.”

Changbin shook his head. “Never. Really though, Min, with that fluffy hair? Even _I_ had a crush on-”

Changbin was cut off when Seungmin leaned over the table, hooking his fingers underneath the older’s tie. He hissed at Changbin as he tugged him closer. “Don’t tease me.”

Changbin smirked. “Just telling the truth. What are you going to do about it?”

Seungmin was still flustered, and now that Changbin’s face was inches from his own, his thought pattern had flown off the rails. “I’ll… I’ll kiss you.”

Apparently having seen that coming, Changbin was enviably calm, his smirk not disappearing as he quirked his eyebrow. “Do it, Kim. You wo-”

Surprisingly, Seungmin didn’t hesitate. He leaned forward over the narrow glass table and then holy shit, he was kissing Seo Changbin. A boy he had been close friends with, then fallen for, then hidden from for years. He was kissing him. 

Changbin made a shocked noise in the back of his throat, as though he really hadn’t believed Seungmin would do it, but only took a few seconds to kiss the younger back.

Seungmin would be lying if he said that he didn’t think part of himself was still hopelessly in love, but this is new. A fresh start. 

Changbin pulled back, his smirk now a smile that was blinding Seungmin. His lips were unaffected from the brief kiss, but his cheeks had coloured, a dusty pink that stood out on his pale cheekbones. Maybe he wasn’t so calm after all.

“Woah.”

Seungmin offered a hand to help Changbin up, pulling him closer. His eyes flickered nervously down to Changbin’s lips, then back up to his face, his mouth stretching into a smile that would soon hurt his cheeks. “W-well, that was not were I expecting this conversation to go.”

Changbin made a face. “I did forgive you really quick. I _suck_ at holding grudges, Min.”

Seungmin raised a hand tentatively, cupping his palm to Changbin’s cheek. His fingers found Changbin’s jawline and he stroked it gently. _This can’t be real_. “Clearly.”

Changbin frowned. “Hey, don't be me-”

“Anyways,” Seungmin continued with a cheeky smile, “you liked me too?”

Despite the fact his pink cheeks were not growing any lighter, Changbin spoke confidently, a way of talking Seungmin hoped he could achieve someday. “I thought I was pretty obvious. I did dumb things to impress you, I couldn’t stand the thought of you studying alone so I got up _early_ for you, hell, I sent you _goodnight texts_ , Seungmin. Granted, I didn’t _love_ you, but… I could. If you still want to, you know, try this.”

Seungmin paused as Changbin pressed his face into Seungmin’s palm. His eyes seemed unable to tear themselves away from Changbin’s. “I... I'm not still in love with you, you know."

Changbin said nothing, nodding with a knowing smile on his face and a distant glitter in his eyes.

" _Fuck._ I think I do want to. Try this. Try us.”

Changbin smiled softly, his hands finding Seungmin’s waist. “Then let’s do it. Slowly, though, okay? And only if you promise to tell me when something is bothering you, instead of disappearing.”

Seungmin laughed, the sound delicate and fragile, just like the golden chandelier above them, the one casting light and shadow onto Seo Changbin’s face. “I’d like to think I’ll never make that mistake again.”

Changbin raised a hand and booped Seungmin on the nose. “Good. Well, then. I have to go back and talk to some ambassadors of sporting good companies for the rest of the evening, but text me later, okay?”

Seungmin nodded vigorously as he reluctantly let Changbin’s warm body slip away. “Definitely. I guess I’ll see you in Monaco then?”

Changbin flashed a grin and a perfect wink, nowhere near as awkwardly as Seungmin would have done it. “Til Monaco, Mr. Kim.”

  
 _Til Monaco_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyyyyyyyyy  
> seungmin changbin aosdhfskjdhjfdiskdjnhdjdfj  
> thank you for coming to my ted talk  
> this was the final interlude, so look forward to diving into the Monaco Arc next chapter~~
> 
> also! i forgot to mention this last chapter, but thank y'all for the fan art, it makes my indescribably happy like THANK YOU <3  
> if you have anything you want to send to me, or just wanna talk about my fics, you can dm me on instagram: @oh_cxnada


	17. First Class for First Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> America's four representatives take a private jet from Miami to Monaco; Jisung realises he is whipped, and Minho finds out that Seungmin's been keeping secrets from him via an unreliable source named Hyunjin. Chaos ensues.

Jisung’s grip on his suitcase tightened as the woman in uniform approached, her hand extended. 

She came to a stop a few steps before him, noticing his clear discomfort. “Uh, Han Jisung?”

He blinked at her, tugging his belongings closer. “Yes?”

“I need your suitcase to load the jet...?”

Pausing to absorb this information, Han glanced down and then back up at her before laughing nervously. “Oh! Right, sorry.”

Miami Airport was bustling with people despite it being only 7:00 in the morning, the number of tourists higher than usual due to the amount of people who had flown to watch the preliminaries. There were voices everywhere, all morphing into one mass of distorted language, and matched with brushes of arms and shoulders that caged him in it all made him feel trapped.

Jisung doesn’t like airports, and he’s already been to two in the last 4 hours. 

At least this plane was private, a luxury offered by the American Formula One Organisation.

He felt more peace when he followed Changbin out onto the airstrip, with one hand securing his black bucket hat to his head as the wind picked up. It was loud out here as well, but a different kind of loud. Nerve-wracking, but exhilarating.

“JISUNG,” Changbin’s voice nearly disappeared into the churning wind and roaring pressure that was a by-product of one of the public planes taking off nearby, but Jisung managed to grasp the end of the question before it was whipped away, “ARE YOU OKAY?”

  
  


Instead of answering or gesturing with his hands, Jisung clutched his hoodie to his chest, and nodded. He regretted taking off the protective fabric, his graphic print shirt not providing the same warmth, but he was okay. 

He could tell Changbin was smiling behind the black mask obscuring his face, and he offered his own eye-smile back before following the older out to where the private jet was resting on the smooth concrete. 

Lining the entrance to the plane were photographers and reporters, and despite the obscene amount of noise on the strip, Jisung could already hear the excited voices. He was confused, though, because from what he knew, they hadn’t seen him yet, and this was his flight. No one else’s. 

As he wrapped his free hand over Changbin’s shoulder in an attempt to shelter himself from the wind, Jisung peered from behind his sunglasses at the entrance. And his eyes fell on Felix.

Okay. So it wasn’t just his flight, apparently.

Changbin continued forward, and waved at a few security guards before leading Jisung through the cluster of reporters, following the path Felix and his manager, Maya, Jisung remembered, had taken to get to the plane.

Jisung tried his best to not look like he was hiding, but it would most likely be the only interpretation of him clinging to Changbin’s bicep and pulling his sunglasses down to sit just above his face mask. 

“HAN! HAN, TO YOUR RIGHT!”

“MONSTER ROOKIE, LOOK HERE!”

Jisung focused his eyes firmly on the ground, and would have squeezed them shut if he wasn’t sure they were approaching the staircase to the plane. 

Changbin’s arm tensed beneath his fingers as a reporter leaned in a little too close, and Han couldn’t see what he was doing, but the presence was gone a few seconds later. Relief flooded his body as Changbin stepped up, meaning that Jisung could as well.

It wasn’t until they were guided to the main suite of the jet that Jisung released Changbin’s arm, sucking in a deep breath. Ignoring the other people in the room, Changbin tugged down his mask and set about fixing Jisung’s hair, something he himself didn’t have to worry about due to the black beanie on his head. He lowered his voice so that only Jisung could hear it. 

“You okay, Sung?”

Jisung sucked in another deep breath, loosening his muscles before nodding. “Yeah, I’m fine. You?”

Changbin nodded, a small smile on his tired face as he finished reassembling Jisung’s dark hair. “Yeah, I’m okay. Let’s… let’s just sit down.”

It was after Jisung had recollected himself, hooked his sunglasses onto the top of his black graphic shirt and taken a seat at the seating area dedicated to them that he got to have an actual look around the jet. 

It was extravagant, the kind of thing you see in movies. There were four tables around the suite, each of them with beige half moon chairs tailored to fit on either side of the table. It was as though the plane was made for them. 

In the back corner was Felix, who shot Han a pair of finger guns before he was reprimanded by his manager for not paying attention to what she was saying. Jisung mouthed a ‘talk later’ to his friend, who wiggled his eyebrows in return.

In the other corner was Jordan, ironically the only non Korean-American racer on the plane. He and his manager were enigmas to Han, who had only talked to Jordan once at an interview event, when the racer had congratulated him like everyone else. Jisung was grateful, of course, but he was curious about the racer with bright pink hair, that contrasted his dark skin in a way that made him truly stand out in Han’s mind. His manager was leaned over the table, gesturing wildly to the laptop in front of them. Jordan just nodded, looking as tired as Han felt.

That meant that they were only waiting for one racer. Lee Minho.

Changbin sighed, adjusting his beanie. “Man, that was chaos. I’m glad we decided to leave Chan in Houston, he would have hated this airport.”

Jisung leaned back into the somewhat stiff and plastic smelling leather. “Yeah. I do miss him already though.”

Changbin smiled sadly. “Same. But hey, now you get special bonding time with your favourite friend so who’s the real winner here?”

Jisung pulled a face, the mask he still had on obscuring the scrunching of his nose. “Not me.”

Changbin gasped. “Ya! Han Jisung! After everything we’ve been through…”

Han rolled his eyes. “Changbin, if you don’t stop this nonsense, I’ll get Chan to delete all your mixtapes.”

Changbin narrowed his eyes before shrugging, lifting one arm to stretch it across the back of the half moon chair. “Whatever, he won’t listen to you.”

Jisung slipped his phone out of the pocket of his ripped jeans, dumping his hoodie onto the couch he was sitting on. “Oh…?”

Changbin’s eyes widened. “No wait he definitely will Jisung please don’t I’m begging you.”

Jisung grinned in triumph, reaching across the table and patting the knee of Changbin’s track pants. “It’s okay, Binnie, I won’t text him. Unless I have to, of course.”

Exhaling in relief, Changbin slumped against the back of his couch. “Yeesh, the emotional stress you put me through, Han, my pay should be doubled.”

Jisung laughed as he ran a hand through his hair, before pulling his mask down. He knew it was safe to take it off now, but the object gave him a strange sort of comfort. Protecting him from eyes, of course, but also keeping him from not thinking before he says things. 

Speaking of Jisung’s impulse talk, it gets five times worse when he’s drunk, and he knows for a fact it was enjoying its time at the after party. 

After the second drink, his memories were only slightly more fuzzy, sloshing around just like the alcohol that had been in his stomach. Jisung had always been, was and probably will always be a lightweight, but he was cursed with the ability to remember what he says, even if he has passed his limit of 500 mls. 

And that means he remembered asking Minho to kiss him.

He’d be lying if he said that wasn’t what he had wanted at the time, but the fact he had the audacity to say it straight to the other’s face while drunk? Minho would never take him seriously ever again.

Not that he did anyways.

Jisung was at a crossroads, which was normally about the time he panicked and missed his opportunity. He didn’t know how Minho felt about him, and the usual Jisung move would be to avoid Minho as much as possible so that the other racer, who Han had only talked to properly three times yet had already grown a massive crush on, wouldn’t figure him out. 

But this time, Han didn’t want to miss out. Minho’s laugh did crazy things for his confidence, that’s for sure. Not so much so that Jisung was going to talk about his feelings to him, but maybe he could slip in a flirtatious comment here and there if he didn’t get too distracted by Minho’s eyes.

They aren’t rivals anymore; on this trip, they are fighting for the same cause, and as long as someone wins the cup for America. They were on the same side.

Jisung sincerely hoped they would remain that way. 

All of this thinking eventually tracked back to the way Minho laughed with him at the party, his breathy expression of happiness music to Jisung’s ears, something he wanted to hear everyday. Jisung couldn’t stop the smile creeping onto his face.

“So.” Changbin was watching Jisung curiously, playful nature in his tone. “Who’s on your mind?”

Jisung blinked back to the present, snapping his gaze away from where it had rested unfocused on the Miami airstrip and back to Changbin, who had already made himself comfortable on the opposite couch. “Huh?”

Changbin gestured casually with his phone in hand, his voice not quieting even as he made loud assumptions. “I don’t know, you seem really ditzy lately. You get like this when you’re crushing on someone, and you also seemed pretty close to Lee at the p-”

Jisung panicked, waving his arms in a manner that caused the frame of his sunglasses to dig into his chest. “Would you tone it down?!”

Changbin raised an eyebrow, the teasing grin on his lips far from dying. “Oh?”

Cheeks reddening, Jisung shook his head at Changbin, hoping that his outburst had not caused the other slightly (very) intimidating people on the plane to tune in on their discussion. “This is not the place for this conversation.”

“But you’re not denying it.”

“I...”

Changbin seemed satisfied with Jisung’s flustered silence, and was about to say something when two new people entered to their left, one of whom being the topic of conversation.

Lee Minho’s ever-watchful eyes scanned the room for something, maybe someone, as his manager hung up on whoever he was talking to. His outfit was casual, like Han’s, but Jisung knew that there was no way he could wear Minho’s trackpants and baggy t-shirt combo and look like a model the way Minho did. 

Minho’s wandering gaze settled on Jisung and Jisung offered an awkward smile, not trusting his voice to say anything in his current state without cracking. 

Minho glanced away quickly, avoiding eye contact before inhaling and smiling back.

“Okay, well, I’ve missed you, Hae. See you in 24? Okay. Bye.”

To Jisung’s surprise, as Minho’s manager hung up, Changbin’s face split into one of his rare, openly fond smiles. “That was Hae?!”

Seungmin flushed under Changbin’s gaze, barely noticeably but Jisung tended to be observant about the smallest things. Something about that reaction made Jisung very suspicious. “Yup. Her racer is through to Monaco. She’s staying near us.”

“No way!”

As Seungmin and Changbin talked about this ‘Hae’ character, Minho and Han watched in confusion, before making eye contact again. Jisung mouthed _‘who’s Hae?_ ’, and all he got was a clueless shrug in reply.

Changbin was leaning all the way forward in his seat now, as though he was gravitating towards Seungmin. “This is great! We have to catch up with her at some point!”

Minho, apparently having grown bored of this conversation, yawned loudly enough to draw Seungmin’s intent gaze away from Changbin. His manager raised an eyebrow at the racer. Minho blinked innocently back at him, his tired eyes and fluffy hair helping his facade of innocence.

Jisung tried to hide his smile as Seungmin turned back to Changbin, an exasperated look on his face. “Sorry, we need to go discuss our plans for when we get there. Uh, I’ll come talk to you later?”

Changbinn smiled fondly, and Jisung didn’t fail to notice his fingers fidgeting nervously with the corner of his phone case, which he now held with both hands. “Absolutely.”

Jisung, unlike his best friend, was respectful enough to lower his voice when he made his accusations, and waited to speak until Minho and Seungmin had taken their seats at the only empty table in the suite. “So, Bin-bin, my bro, my man, my pal-”

Changbin inhaled, closing his eyes. “Yeah, I deserve this.”

Jisung leaned forward onto his elbows on the low table, resting his head between his hands. The angle meant that his butt stuck out on the couch and his lower back protested quietly, but it was important for dramatic effect. “You gonna spill the beans about you and that cute manager over there? And your oh-so-mysterious management program?”

Changbin pulled a face at Jisung’s cutesy position, scrunching his nose. “I don’t think so.”

Jisung smiled scarily, tapping the tips of his fingers to his cheekbones. “Please, Binnie? Jisungie wants to know real bad.”

Changbin deadpanned, looking down his nose at Jisung as he picked his phone off the table. “Yeah, maybe one day.”

Jisung pouted, giving up on the cutesy pose and slumping back into the couch. “You’re no fun. I deserve to know! I was the reason you went on that course!”

Sighing, Changbin glanced across at Seungmin and smiled slightly before leaning closer to Jisung, who perked up immediately. “I can tell you one thing.”

Jisung nodded eagerly. “Yeah?”

Changbin whispered, cupping the palm of his hand to the side of his face and looking Jisung directly in the eyes. “I…”

“Mhm?”

“I know.... I know Seungmin from there.”

Jisung froze for a moment, before standing. His expression was blank as he picked up his hoodie and then threw it with as much force as his tired body could manage directly at Changbin’s face. 

Changbin doubled over laughing, and barely flinched when Jisung’s balled up hoodie hit his face. “Oh-oh my god, t-that was gold.”

“Attention please. We ask that you now prepare for take off.”

If it weren’t for the voice over the intercom, Jisung would have stormed off into the back rooms, despite the fact he would have been watched by the best racers in America.

Han sat back down in his seat crossing his arms over his chest as he sulked. An air hostess emerged from the front entry, one that Minho and Seungmin had entered through minutes ago. 

She flashed a smile. “Welcome, racers. I’m sure you have all met the captain, and are well aware of her specially selected abilities but we still need to go over emergency procedure for the small chance that something does go wrong. Underneath your seats…”

Silence coated the plane as soon as the woman began speaking, her mouth stretched into a smile the whole time. The one sided discussion between Jordan and his manager paused, Maya appeared to have finished briefing Felix and Changbin managed to calm his hysterics. Seungmin and Minho hadn’t been talking, but they snapped to attention as though they had been interrupted.

When she came to the end of the safety procedures, the hostess began to talk about something that Jisung found far more assuring; food.

“Feel free to take any snack food provided at the bar through the door at the back of this suite, as a gift from AFO to you, our representatives. Breakfast will be served at 8:00, lunch at 12:00 and dinner at 5:00. If you need anything, request assistance by pressing this button by the door, and if you would like to rest, you can sleep here or in the lodgings at the back of the plane. Enjoy your flight!”

There was a chorus of thank yous throughout the cabin as the hostess disappeared back into the galley, Jisung’s quite obviously the loudest. Minho smiled in his direction, but Jisung didn’t notice, already planning his next grand heist.

The aforementioned rookie grinned mischievously at Changbin, who had folded his hoodie and was placing it on the table as some sort of peace-offering. He sighed with a smile when he saw the look in Jisung’s eyes. “Shouldn’t you wait a few hours before you start stowing food for winter, squirrel?”

Jisung pouted at the nickname. “I told you, I’m not a squirrel. Whatever, if you won’t help me, Felix will.”

Changbin rolled his eyes. “I don’t doubt that.”

Jisung waited until the plane was stable above the grey layer of clouds to stand up and storm away from his friend, as although he was mad, Jisung hadn’t suddenly developed nerves of steel and sunk his fingers into the expensive leather as the plane encountered turbulence. 

Changbin raised an eyebrow as Jisung stood, still pale, performed some sort of interpretive dance in Felix’s general direction before marching out, disappearing beneath the doorway at the back of the cabin. He was even more amused by how quickly Felix figured what Jisung had been asking for, murmuring to Maya before sliding out of his seating area and following Jisung into the next room. 

The orange-haired racer’s manager just shook her head and exhaled, which Changbin understood completely. Before he looked back down at his phone, Changbin cast a glance in Seungmin’s direction, only to find his boyfriend already had his laptop out and Seungmin’s racer’s eyes fixed on the door that Jisung and Felix had disappeared through. Minho continued to watch the door with thinly veiled longing, until he finally registered the gaze in his direction. 

Changbin nearly laughed as Minho panicked, his eyes widening in alarm as he quickly shifted his focus to the papers on the table in front of him. It really wasn’t hard to see why Jisung was crushing on this guy. No matter how gorgeous Lee Minho was on the outside, deep down, he was just as whipped as Han himself.

They were made for each other. 

. . .

Minho tried to calm the burn of his cheeks at being caught in the act of staring, hoping that by now Han’s manager had looked away. Oh my god, Minho, you couldn’t keep your eyes away for ten seconds?

Busying his shaky hands with sorting through the papers in front of him, Minho tried to forget about what just happened by focusing on the fact they were in a plane right now, flying to freaking Monaco. 

Oh right, they were in a plane.

_OH._

Minho had completely forgotten about his fear of heights, Han’s distracting presence and the dream he had as they drove to Miami fresh in his mind. Now that he was reminded, it took everything in his willpower not to glance out of his window and scream. 

Apparently sensing Minho’s discomfort, Seungmin glanced up from his laptop. “Hey, you good?”

Minho forced a toothy smile. “Yeah, peachy.”

Seungmin sighed and took off his glasses. “Did you bring your air pods?”

Minho nodded and slipped his pink airpods case from the pocket of his branded track pants. 

“Rewatch the finals. Take your mind off the sky and put it into the race. Don’t dwell on anything that happened after though, yeah? That’s in the past.”

Minho winced at the mention of his panic attack, but was comforted again by the memory of Jisung’s calming voice. Seungmin was right. It was in the past. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t learn from the rest of the race.

So that was how Minho found himself watching the finals on some illegal streaming site at 8:00 in the morning as the hostess brought out the first meal of the flight. 

Seungmin engaged in light conversation with her as Minho frowned at his phone, his knees pulled up against his chest as he relived the finals. Even as his breakfast was placed in front of him, Minho found he couldn’t take his eyes away. 

There were plenty of ups and downs during the race for the top 3, but now that he had evidence enough to conclude that Jisung wasn’t the arrogant rookie he had originally envisioned, watching the rookie pull off so many intricate maneuvers had a different effect.

The red car, which had once been a terrible sight for Minho, was impossible to tear his eyes away from, and he found that he was just as excited as the commentators had been, even though he had already lived through the race.

Minho skipped over the part in the race where Maddox spun out, and Minho’s silver car noticeably slowed, a sick feeling in his stomach just remembering it. He chose to skip forward to watch as Felix’s black and blue car approached his own, and now he could understand why it was so hard to make a decision. Sure, he didn’t have all the tools that they did to tell milliseconds apart but with a bare eye, they pulled over the finish line at the exact same time.

The records Seungmin got handed later on told him that he had beaten Felix by 0.31 milliseconds. The American Formula One Organisation had been keen on sending a younger, more promising racer with a better track record, but due to Minho’s win, they had to discuss with the runners of the Monaco Grand Prix to figure out how to send the Australian instead. And now they had reached a compromise.

Yeah. It was shit. But Minho’s record had been tragic in the past year.

But that streak was over and he was going to prove it at Monaco. Lee Minho is a force to be reckoned with. 

Minho zoned back in time for them to show a few shots of the racers celebrating their victories with their crews for the few minutes they had before Han left for home, and subsequently took the energy with him.

A small smile appeared on Minho’s face as a quick shot of Jisung hanging off of Changbin’s shoulders flashed across the screen, the rookie speaking excitedly and his manager unable to do anything but smile back. Then Han blew a kiss to the camera, with confidence that Minho knew stemmed from the win but it still made him bite his lip in both envy and attraction.

That was the thing about Han; even after the race, when he had left his ridiculously red and no doubt expensive car, and he was just a small, athletic form wrapped in a red bodysuit, he had something about him that terrified Minho. He was so natural he seemed... unreal.

From the way Jisung charmed the cameras, despite the intense stress he endures during every race, and how he maintained a smile through interviews even if his manager sent him worried looks that implied he felt that Han should be far away from any people of the sort, to his ability to hype up a crowd and make them feel like they’d won something; Han Jisung was made for this business.

Minho, even after nearly four years of racing, still had to force a fake smile for the cameras, kept to himself at ceremonies and spoke only as much as he needed to get his point across. He supposed that was his brand now, the reclusive, sometimes champion Lee Know. It wasn’t a bad appeal, people writing him off as mysterious and stoic, but it wasn’t anything like Han Jisung’s.

The rookie was something special.

“Minho, you need to eat.”

Minho finally closed the tab on his phone, doing his best to dim the uncharacteristically bright smile on his face before unplugging his air pods. Seungmin probably saw, but luckily, his manager chose not to comment. Minho would have been unable to stop himself from telling Seungmin all about his uncontrollable feelings for the rookie and although Seungmin is the person he trusts most in this world (Hyunjin may be his best friend, but that kid is not the best with secrets and would tease Minho endlessly if he found out), Minho isn’t sure if spilling his guts is the wisest decision considering Jisung’s manager was approaching their table.

Seungmin glanced up from his food to smile at Changbin, before panickedly raising a hand to cover his mouth, which was full of eggs. Changbin shook his head, a fond smile on his face as he waited for Seungmin to swallow. 

Minho raised an eyebrow but left his legs stretching across his half-crescent couch, not making room for Changbin. 

Seungmin swallowed, but still almost choked when he went to speak to Changbin. “H-hey, what’s up?”

Changbin’s originally confident manner disappeared at the wide-eyed question from Seungmin, his words coming out somewhat tentatively. “I was just wondering if you wanted to come and sit with me? I don’t think Jisung is coming back, and I thought we could chat, if you want. Oh, uh, sorry Minho.”

Minho took another look at the flustered expression on Seungmin’s face, before piecing together the situation. _Ah. So Jisung’s manager is just as charming as Jisung, huh?_

A smirk stretched across his lips as he took a bite out of his bagel. “All good, loverboy.”

Changbin blinked in surprise, and Seungmin sent a glare in his direction, but the other manager soon got over the comment, laughing. “It’s okay, Kim. He’s not wrong.”

Seungmin narrowed his eyes, his soft eyelashes no doubt marring his vision. “That doesn’t make it any less disrespectful. I’ve got my eye on you after that stunt you pulled at Prelims, Minho.”

His friend then stood up. “I’ll come eat with you, Bin.”

Minho blew Seungmin a kiss as he walked away, from which he earned a finger gesture that seemed pretty hypocritical to Minho. Changbin watched the exchange with an amused, knowing glint in his eyes before following Seungmin to the opposite side of the plane.

Taking another bite out of his breakfast, Minho turned his attention back to the new messages from Hyunjin, wondering what his friend would think about this sudden male development in adamantly single Seungmin’s love life. He tapped to open the unread messages only to find that Hyunjin hadn’t been texting to check up on him.

**bffie**

_mINho the aftEr party is on da news an u look hot bby_

_HOLY FUCK THE MONSTER ROOKIE_

_sksjksjk u have to introduce me cause he fine as hell_

_oh damn he looks even better from the back_

**you**

_…_

_hyunjin we talked about thirsting over people_

_I do not want to hear it_

**bffie**

_hun if you want a boring best friend you talk to jeongin or jinsoul not me_

_aneways han jisung step on me_

**you**

_first of all both of them would kill you if they heard you call them boring_

_Secondly, jisung will do nothing of the sort_

_speaking of best friends and gay_

_seungmin_

**bffie**

_oh!? how out of character,,, spill_

**you**

_him and jisung’s manager are eating lunch together right now and giggling cutely_

_its sickening_

**bffie**

_haha someones salty_

_what does jisung’s manager look li_

_HOLY HELL SEUNGMIN GET YO DADDY_

_SEXY BUFF EBOY LOOKING ASS_

_Im so proud of him_

_wait_

_is he THE changbin?!_

**you**

_??_

_what do you mean?_

**bffie**

_you know the only person seungmin’s ever loved romantically_

_the one he met at the manager program and chickened out of admitting he loved him_

**you**

_!_

_WTF THATS HOW HE KNOWS HIM?!?!_

**bffie**

_oh shit he didn’t tell you this? i thought he was gunna tell u like last year_

**you**

_NO HE DID NOT_

_seungmin is on thin ice rn_

_why wouldn’t he tell me??_

**bffie**

_idk_

_actually, it was prolly cause everyone knows how much you hate the rookie_

_and ud blame his manager for his talent as well_

_or_

_he knew you would be running in to changbin at some point_

_and didn’t want you spilling the beans if he couldn’t do it himself_

_or_

**you**

_okay stop i get it im problematic_

_wait i don’t hate han_

**bffie**

_you don’t? you used to act like it alot_

**you**

_nah i dont hes literally so cool_

_i mean_

_fuck_

**bffie**

_OOOOOOOOOOO BITCH YOU CRUSHING_

_FINALLY_

  
  


Minho’s face was hot as he aggressively deposited his phone onto the table, having not expected for the conversation to have taken such a turn. Fantastic, now his best friend knew he was falling for the monster rookie and the endless teasing would begin. Maybe he should have just told Seungmin when he had the chance.

Minho needs something to drink.

Placing his knife and fork on top of his empty plate, he stood up, sighing as he brushed the crumbs from his clothing. It was only as he did this that he remembered that both Han and Felix were in the exact place he needed to go to get one.

As he contemplated whether it was worth risking his heart for a peach iced tea, Minho scanned the cabin. Four tables, only two in use where Jordan and his manager were sprawled at the back on their phones and then across from him where Seungmin and Changbin talked over their forgotten breakfasts. Felix’s curly-haired manager must have gone to sleep in the lodgings.

After a final observation, Minho realised he had nothing to achieve here. It was time to walk into the belly of the lion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> he HE  
> im back~~~  
> i luv hyunjin hes best boy but also big bully minho's pretty much screwed at this point  
> hope y'all enjoyed the chapter,, sorry it took a while to write!!  
> next chapter: jilix also best boys, jisung is pAnickEd, and screaming sriracha doritos 😔😔
> 
> follow me on insta for idk more content and if yah wanna send me a message, feel free to do so <3 @oh_cxnada


	18. Tastes Like Sriracha to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :0

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am warning you in advance this chapter is an absolute trainwreck and completely unedited... enjoy!!

When the hostess walked in at 8:00 to bring in their breakfasts, Jisung and Felix both realised that they probably shouldn’t have eaten so many snacks. Placing two trays of actual food next to Jisung’s elbow, the woman smiled at them. “Are you boys enjoying the flight so far?”

Jisung couldn’t exactly speak through his mouthful of cheese puffs, so he looked at Felix. Felix hid an amused smile and nodded his head. “Yeah, its great. Lots of good snacks here, though I’m pretty sure Han’s gotten to the best of them by now.”

Glaring as scarily as he could manage while chewing angrily on his puffs, Jisung didn’t get the chance to defend himself. Felix purposefully avoided looking at Jisung, snapping to attention quickly when the hostess began speaking again.

“I’m glad you are making the most of it. I…”

Felix tilted his head, a kind expression on his face that never failed to make people comfortable. Jisung reckoned it could be dangerous if Felix was a bad guy, but fortunately for hearts all around the world, Felix Lee was the angel he appeared to be. “Yeah?”

The hostess’s dark skin flushed as she averted her eyes. “I want to wish you luck for Monaco. I know you guys are the best racers in America, but you two could easily be the best in the world as well.”

Jisung grinned, finally free of the cheese puffs. “Thank you! I’ll be sure to tell Minho he’s top 2.”

Felix froze for a second before realisation set in and he punched Jisung in the shoulder. “Hey, she was talking about me!”

The hostess laughed heartily, pressing a hand to the chest of her dark blue uniform. “Oh lord, don’t hurt him too much, Mr Lee. I’ll be back at lunch!”

Despite the fact, Jisung was dodging Felix’s attacks, he still managed to sneak out a polite farewell. Felix smiled at her as she waved before attacking Jisung’s waist with fingers, knowing his friend was ticklish.

Jisung had to steady himself on the circular bar they were seated at with his ringed fingers, knowing that the stools weren’t going to catch him if he fell. He wheezed out an apology as Felix persisted, an evil grin on his innocent face. “S-stop, Felix, I’m s-sorry.”

Felix ceased his attacks, but narrowed his eyes. “I’m going to be merciful now, Jisung, but watch your back.”

Jisung snorted as Felix stepped around him to collect one of the trays before walking to the other side of the bar bench top and propping himself up onto an unoccupied stool. “You couldn’t win a fight with me if you tried.”

Felix raised an eyebrow, picking up his fork and holding it like a knife. “I’m a third-degree black belt in Taekwondo, Han, what do you have against me?”

“I’ve got _9_.”

Although his stomach was protesting it was already desperately full, Jisung still browsed the tray next to him as he spoke, picking up a tiny tub of expensive looking yoghurt and a spoon before he met Felix’s eyes. 

Felix paused from buttering his toast to gasp. “Are you implying you would run me over with your _car_?! That’s foul play!”

Jisung grunted his words as he tried to unscrew the lid. “Nah it's not, I read the rule book of _What I’m allowed to do to beat Felix Lee_.”

“Sounds lame.”

Letting out a noise of satisfaction as the lid twisted off with a pop, Jisung’s lips quirked into a confident smirk. He used his spoon to emphasise his words. “Just like you, Freckles.”

Nodding in acceptance, Felix took a bite from his toast. Apparently his stomach was as bottomless as Chan’s, because Jisung knew for a fact that Felix had eaten more than he had but the Australian had no qualms with eating three pieces of toast alongside that. Jisung was more than satisfied with his passionfruit yoghurt. 

There was contemplative silence as the two ate their respective breakfasts, and it allowed Jisung’s mind to drift back to Minho’s manager's odd behaviour earlier, as well as Changbin’s elusiveness. It almost seemed as though there was something more to their relationship and it intrigued Jisung a lot. 

It had been a while since Changbin last dated someone, his last relationship ending after only a couple weeks because he couldn’t reciprocate the girl’s feelings, and wanted to focus on his career rather than something he didn’t see lasting long. It seems kind of harsh looking back, but Changbin is better with words than Han is and probably said it way nicer. Somi was cool, and Jisung still talked to her sometimes despite her ex-relationship with his best friend.

Jisung hoped that whatever was going on with Seungmin and Changbin would end well as well, because Changbin felt terrible for weeks after leaving Somi, worried he had hurt her. Jisung hated to see Changbin worried.

Instead of dwelling on something he didn’t know anything about, Jisung turned his attention to Felix. “Hey Lix, how’s Ye-Rim?”

Felix swallowed his mouthful before leaning forward onto the marble countertop and sighing. His pale, pinky-orange hair fell onto his forehead as he glanced up at Han. “We broke up.”

Jisung froze, before placing his yoghurt on the bar and smiling comfortingly at Felix. “I’m sorry, man.”

Felix shook his head. “Nah, it's fine. It happened a month ago now, and it's no biggie.”

Jisung exclaimed. “It happened a month ago!? Why didn’t you text me!?”

“I kinda… forgot I could?”

Jisung stood in disbelief, his big eyes wide in shock. “Felix. I’m your friend, you can text me any time.”

Felix pouted. “I know that but I forgot then… I didn't want to bother you cause you were becoming a massive superstar and I was stuck a million miles away from you in Australia.”

Jisung climbed back up onto his stool so he could actually reach across the bar to grab Felix’s hand. “That is not accurate geography, but I understand how you feel. The same thing happened with Chan, except _he_ was the one in Australia. I’m sorry you felt that way, Lix.”

Felix smiled and squeezed Jisung’s hand back. “Thanks, Sung.”

Sitting back down on the plush red leather of the stool, Jisung picked up his forgotten yoghurt pottle and placed it back on his tray, done with it for now. “Well. So no girlfriend, huh?”

Felix nodded, pushing his own tray so that it was next to Jisung’s again and kicking his feet up on the stool next to him. “Yeah, pretty much. I kinda think that it was going to end at some point anyways. We weren’t matched that well.”

Jisung sighed, resting his chin into his hand and pressing a bare elbow to the cold countertop. The sleeves of his black graphic tee were long for a short sleeved top, but only covered just passed his bicep, meaning two thirds of his arm were exposed to the gentle air-conditioning of the room. “Well, I’m glad you weren’t heartbroken. I’m not sure if sad Felix would be on his way to Monaco right now.”

Felix grinned. “Single Felix is working wonders.”

Jisung returned his friend's smile and was about to speak before Felix tried to reach for his glass of water and nearly fell off of the stools he was balanced on. The other racer's eyebrows shot up as he gripped the countertop as though his life depended on it. “Oh my GOD, I nearly died.”

Jisung laughed. “I mean, you were trying to stretch yourself over three stools at once.”

Felix stuck his tongue out, placing his converse clad feet to the ground shakily. “Whatever, you’ve done worse. But seriously, I need to lie down. I’m so full.”

“What about those chairs?” Standing up again as well, Jisung scanned the room before settling his faze on the seats by the windows. He really wondered why a private plane could possibly need so much room, but he doubted either of them would complain about it.

Felix paused from dramatically rubbing his stomach for a couple of seconds to cast a glance towards the area Jisung was approaching. Jisung’s body was a silhouette against the glowing white and blue of the landscape just out of the window, his dark outfit contrasting it even further.

He turned his attention back to the set of sofas Jisung was referring to, and was pleasantly surprised by the fact that they looked like they could be adjusted. “Perfect!”

Jisung snorted as Felix forgot about his full stomach and skipped passed him to the chairs, before promptly dropping himself into it with a sigh. He studied the pad on the arm of the chair for a few seconds, tapped the screen and then leant back as the chair buzzed like something from a dentist's office. Felix leaned back with a satisfied smile. “Now _this_ is the life.”

Naturally curious, Jisung sat across from Felix and tried to match Felix’s method to turn on the massage system only to find that the touchscreen was so complicated he had to squint to read the tiny fonts beneath each symbol. “What the heck, Felix? How did you figure this out so quickly?”

Felix reluctantly pried his eyes open. “Huh? Just press the vibrate button.”

Jisung made a lost noise, causing Felix to get up and do it for him. He startled when the chair started vibrating, causing Felix to laugh. “Scaredy-cat.”

Jisung protested as he hesitantly relaxed into the back of the chair. “Hey! I’m not always that bad.”

Felix sat back down, mocking Jisung’s pout. “Jisung, you’re worse than _me_ when it comes to surprises, and that's saying something, my twin.”

Contemplating Felix’s words, Jisung raised a finger to his chin before making a definitive decision. “Be real, I’m not that bad, right?”

Felix didn’t say anything, his eyes closed and a smile growing on his face that only caused Jisung to get more riled up. 

“Oh so that's how it is? What about we fight this out like men then, huh? Most scares until the Finals win?”

This caught Felix’s attention because he _might_ actually win this. Han was infamous in their friend group for his jumpy nature despite his usual confidence in pretty much everything he did, and although Felix could also be dubbed a scaredy cat, he was sure that he could beat Jisung if he really pulled his wit together. “I’m interested. What’s the prize?”

Jisung hummed as he pondered, his dark brown hair bouncing on his forehead in time with the chair’s vibrations. His back and shoulders were beginning to feel pleasantly numb. “Hmm… I’m not sure. A get out of Chan’s anger free card? When we do something stupid?”

Felix let out a noise of amusement. “Something stupid like this?”

Jisung rolled his eyes. “You come up with something then, if you’re so smart.”

Raising his hands in surrender, Felix could tell even with closed eyes that Jisung was still scheming. He didn’t need to suggest anything. 

Sure enough, Jisung spoke slowly and started confidently but gave up with his idea two words into the sentence. “What about… yeah nevermind I got nothing.”

“Bragging rights?”

Sighing, Jisung nodded. “Bragging rights.”

Felix accepted the challenge, excitedly rubbing his hands together as he tried to come up with his first strategy. “Okay then, you’re on. Prepare yourself, Sung; you aren’t the only one with plans up your sleeve.”

Jisung smirked, something that Felix couldn’t see but could definitely hear. “Yeah, but I’m the only one with good plans.”

Felix pouted, opening his eyes to whine at Jisung only to find that his friend had already risen from his massage chair and slipped through the small gateway into the circular bar. “How did you get there so fast…?”

Jisung’s eyes sparkled mischievously as he tapped his nose. “A magician never reveals his secrets, good student. Now, you want a drink?”

Felix shivered, though it probably wasn’t noticeable as his whole body was vibrating anyways. He wrapped his sweater paws around his shoulders. “You’re scary, Hannie. Is there any juice?”

Jisung grinned creepily before he crouched down next to the silver mini fridge, and Felix lost sight of his small frame behind the tall black countertop. 

Han’s voice wasn’t distinctively deep like Felix’s, but it still had a rougher undertone when he wasn’t purposefully acting cute or whining at someone. It was particularly obvious when Jisung didn’t have to yell for people to hear him, his voice baritone and loud without him raising it. “What type do you want?

“Hmm… is there pear and apple?”

“Hey, hey, you’re in luck today, Lixie. One icy cold pear and apple juice coming right up!”

In hindsight, Felix probably shouldn’t have closed his tired eyes and relaxed back into his chair again, as by nulling his senses he left himself vulnerable to the very thing they had just turned into a competition. The pastel haired racer screeched as an icy cold bottle was pressed to his exposed collarbones, jolting forward in his chair. 

Jisung cracked up, laughing as he dumped that bottle in Felix’s lap and slumped back into his own chair. “O-one point to me, Lix.”

Felix recovered quickly and groaned, humiliated as he unscrewed the bottle of juice. “How am I so _dumb_?”

Jisung shook his head, offering Felix a pitying smile, taking a sip from his ice tea before speaking. “You’re not dumb, my twin, you’re just naive. Han Jisung will never settle for second pla-”

“Hey, uh, Han?”

Jisung froze at the sound of a smooth, familiar voice, his hair standing up on end. He turned slowly to face the one and only Lee Minho, who was studying them both with caution but looked just as pretty as he had that morning. 

Although he was disappointed by his reply, Jisung was surprised he could get any words out at all. “H-hey, wassup?”

. . .

Lee Minho was an enigma to Han Jisung. The fact that someone who was once just as legendary as his mentor, who had not only won the American Prix but also had nearly made it to Monaco multiple years in a row could be so quiet and unshowy amazed him. Minho had been racing for 6 years and Jisung was still in his first yet had still caused more trouble than he was worth in the racing community. No matter what Lee Minho said to the cameras, no one could argue because although he was being blunt what he said always relied on facts.

Jisung, on the other hand, had a tendency to… exaggerate.

Jisung hadn’t met Minho before the American Preliminaries, but he would be lying if he had said he never noticed him before. It was unavoidable considering that although he never clashed with Chan, as his mentor had raced for Australia but was known all around the world, Jisung knew he would have to familiarize himself with the best competition in America. 

And among the top four had been Lee Minho.

When Jisung had seen the infamous silver hauler out of the window of theirs, he couldn’t take his eyes away. Sure, he had known he was coming to the preliminaries but it had seemed surreal. The Lee Minho the world had seen racing over the last year wasn’t the legend Jisung knew so well, but boy did he look exactly the same. 

Okay, so Han may have felt a little more than just admiration for the racer, but who didn’t?

Minho still radiated an aura of muted superiority, as though he didn’t realise it himself but he was normally the most intimidating person in the room. That aura made Jisung think that Minho wasn’t as ‘burnt out’ as the public and media loved to make him seem. Jisung _knew_ Minho was far from finished with the industry, and the fact he was on his way to Monaco right now proved that Jisung was right.

Speaking of on his way to Monaco. 

Felix looked at Jisung curiously as his friend stumbled over what was probably meant to be a casual greeting. 

Minho offered a small smile as Jisung beamed in his direction, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was wondering whether they had drinks here? Like, ice tea or something?”

Jisung blinked back to the present, struggling to draw his eyes away from Minho’s veiny arms and absorbing the question. “Yeah! I mean, yeah there is… what flavour can I get you?”

“Peach? If there is any, of course.”

Jisung nodded vigorously and was thankful that he was on a vibrating chair or else he may have scared Minho away with his eager behaviour. “There is! You have good taste, I got peach too.”

Minho watched as Jisung slung his jean-clad legs over the side of his chair, landed on his feet and walked over to the counter before speaking with an uncharacteristic shyness in his voice. “Thanks.”

Felix’s curious expression faded slowly as he flicked his eyes back and forth between the two racers, transforming into a playful smile. He decided to not embarrass Jisung just yet by telling his friend that his ears were pink, instead greeting Minho. “Hey, Minho! How are you doing?”

Minho snapped his gaze away from where Jisung had leant down to grab an ice tea from the bar to look up at Felix for the first time. The younger racer’s face was lit by the windows of the plane, but there was something that was terrifying about his smile. 

Minho raised an awkward hand before immediately dropping it because why did he _do_ that? “Hey, Felix. Uh, pretty good, I guess.”

“Enjoying the flight?”

Minho shook his head. “I hate flying. ‘Nd heights, I guess.”

Jisung popped back up, apparently having finally found the tea, and his ears were significantly less red than they were before. He nudged the gate open with his knee, and waved Minho over, a frown on his face. “That’s not good. Are you okay?”

Minho hesitantly approached Jisung, his fingers brushing Han’s as he took the bottle. If Jisung shivered, no one needed to know. “Yeah, I’m fine. No need to worry about me, lightweight.”

“That’s good- hey, don’t call me that, it was _one_ time!”

Minho snorted, confidence growing as Jisung whined at him. “Kind of ironic, considering it was also one drink.”

Deciding against protesting it was two, because that really wasn’t much better, Jisung settled for walking back over to his chair and slumping down into it sulkily. “You two are both mean. I need new friends.”

Minho’s brain threatened to short-circuit at the fact Han considered him to be more than a stranger, but he caught himself. “Good luck finding anyone as charming as me.”

Jisung sunk lower into his chair.

Felix glanced amusedly at his friend and sipped his juice. “Before you two continue flirting, Minho do you want anything to eat? There’s snacks and stuff in the bar.”

Minho shook his head, maybe not having heard Felix’s comment on flirting or choosing to ignore it. Jisung, on the other hand, definitely heard it and proceeded to flush again, this time his cheeks turning red as well. He mouthed ‘ _I’m watching you_ ’ at Felix, glad that his chair didn’t face the entrance and Minho wouldn’t have seen his threat. 

“Nah, I just ate. I might come back later though, if that's okay…?”

Felix nodded, laughing. “Absolutely! We don’t own this room, feel free to come at any time.”

Jisung turned to wish Minho a better flight, but the racer had apparently already disappeared back into the main cabin area, leaving Jisung to stare at the door forlornly. Felix studied Jisung for the most of three seconds before a wide grin split on his face. He cooed, a teasing nature in his tone. “Han Jisung~”

Jisung spun back and ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to appear casual. The dark brown strands filtered through his fingers and landed messily on his forehead. “What? What’s up?  
  


Felix pressed the off button on his chair before leaning across the gap and pinching Jisung’s cheeks with unnecessary force. “You have a crush on Lee Minho~”

Jisung spluttered, slapping Felix’s hand away. “N-no I don’t! Get off me!”

Felix raised an eyebrow.

His chair was probably getting tired of him slumping into it, but Jisung felt it was necessary to display his surrender. “Yeah, I do. I don’t really know what to do about it, to be honest.”

“Well, do you like… know if he’s into guys?”

Jisung nodded. “He is. I mean, he told me. When I was… drunk.”

Remembering saying goodbye to Changbin and Jisung the night of the after party, Felix’s mouth relaxed into a smile. “And lightweight was also a reference to the afterparty? I think he likes you too, Jisung.”

Startled, Jisung raised his hands, his expression alarmed. “No, there’s literally no way. Of course not, right? Right, Felix!?”

Felix shrugged. “He gave me that vibe, man. Or he just flirts and brings up inside jokes with and gets flustered around and stares fondly at everyone. But from what I’ve seen, he doesn’t even talk to people he doesn’t have to.”

Jisung’s cheeks were flushed again, his heart-racing at the ring of truth of Felix’s words. He wouldn’t call what they were doing _flirting_ but Jisung couldn’t stop himself from hoping Felix was right. “Well. Well. Okay.”

Felix patted Jisung’s bare knee through the rip in his jeans. “It’s okay, absorb the information.”

Jisung glared at Felix, who promptly withdrew his hand. “Anyways. If Minho does like me, then fuck yes, we’ll win Monaco together and use the winning money to go on a trip around the world together, adopt fifty cats and have a wedding. I’ll get to hear his pretty laughter and see his cute smile everyday. But if he doesn’t like me, then I will face rejection and then heartbreak right before what might be the most important series of races in my entire life, presuming I pass semis, which I won’t if I am unmotivated and heartbroken.”

Felix paused at the sudden word splurge, but it didn’t take too long for him to catch up. “So, I presume you _have_ thought about him liking you before.”

Jisung tried to turn off the vibrate button and stand up to make his dramatic line, but had completely forgotten about how complex the system was, and resorted to looking at Felix with wide eyes. His friend switched it off and then waited, knowing Jisung had something to say. 

Then he cleared his throat, standing and staring wistfully out a window with a hand clutching his chest. “A man can dream, Lee Felix.”

. . .

After what felt like years to Jisung but in reality was only about ten minutes, Minho in all his beauty walked back into the room beneath the slim, creamy archway with his duffle bag slung over his shoulder and his expression somewhat haunted. 

Felix grinned at Minho. “Back so soon?”

Minho shivered. “Yeah, I’d rather be in here than in there watching my best friend make out with Jisung’s manager.”

Jisung spun, his eyes wide in shock. “What the FUCK?!”

Felix looked equally shocked and was quick to gesture to the seat next to him. “Please, sit down.”

Minho smiled at that, walking over and taking the seat next to Jisung’s after a moment's hesitation. Jisung didn’t notice though, as he was leant forward, elbows on his knees and fingers pressed to his temples as he tried to comprehend the fact he knew was true all along. “Okay, yeah this makes sense. But still… your manager? I didn’t think he was gay… wait is he? Or is he just fucking with Changbin because if he is, I sw-”

Minho shook his head violently, trying to calm the angry sparks coming from Han’s body. “No, no. I mean, I don’t think he’s gay, but like… Changbin is the only person he’s ever like, loved.”

Felix’s eyes widened. “Huh? Love? How long have they been together?”

Minho sighed, leaning back into the chair and relaxing for the first time since he had gotten onto this damned plane. “Apparently they were best friends at a manager course and Seungmin fell in love with him but didn’t have the guts to confess so just kinda stopped talking to him for years and then Changbin caught up with him recently and Seungmin apologised and now they’re together or something.”

There was dead silence. And then Jisung lost it. “WHAT IS GOING ON?”

Felix looked like he was choking on air, his eyes bulging as he stared into space. “What- what has this world come to?”

Minho glanced worriedly between the two respective mental breakdowns, extending a cautious hand and patting Felix’s shoulder. “Uh… are you guys okay?”

Jisung stood abruptly, the shock on his face morphing into cold determination, similar to the one he got during a race. “I’m going to kill that bitch.”

Half way through storming out, Jisung very nearly tripped over Minho’s feet and was only saved by Minho grabbing his waist. Jisung stiffened, and Minho would have had to be blind not to notice the reddening of the other cheeks. He withdrew his hand, but luckily, this action had sobered Jisung, who sat calmly back into his seat and snapped his fingers at Felix. 

Felix shook his head to try and bring himself back to reality, before belatedly trying to stop Jisung. “Okay, we aren’t gonna kill anyone. Minho, can we trust Seungmin?”

Minho frowned. “I’m obviously a biased source. I’m his best friend.”

“Oh. Yeah, you’re right. Jisung? Can we trust Seungmin?”

Jisung shrugged, his cheeks still pink. “Yeah. I don’t know him, like, at all but he seems trustworthy and Changbin and Minho have good judgement so… yeah?”

Felix glanced one last time at Minho before he was seemingly satiated. He stood with a smile. “Well, as long as everyone’s happy and Changbin is safe. Jisung, you want more food?”

Apparently also satisfied with the conversation’s conclusions, Jisung whined and pressed himself into his couch. “I couldn’t eat more if I _tried_ . Changbin’s been trying to get me to eat more for ages but I just _can’t_ fit anything else in my stomach.”

Minho would be lying if he didn’t soak in the sight of Jisung curled into his seat, eyes and nose scrunched in protest and his dark hair mussed into his face. He looked away before it became creepy, but oh boy was he fucked. 

He croaked out his next words but cleared his throat before it became noticeable. “Is it- is it for your training program?”

Jisung straightened slowly at the sound of Minho’s voice, as if only just having remembered Minho’s presence. He stretched his arms as he stood to follow Felix, nodding.

“Yeah, it's gotten way more intense leading up to Monaco and I started to, you know, burn more than I had. But now I got these guns-” he flexed his bicep, tugging the sleeve of his shirt up to his shoulder, “so it pretty much paid off.”

Minho averted his eyes before his brain got any dangerous thoughts but he still smiled in acknowledgement. “That’s good, I guess. Though I’m not sure how much your biceps matter when it comes to g-force, Jisung.”

Jisung paused from walking over to the bar to combat Minho’s statement with a playful one of his own. “Whatever, you’re just jealous of my arms. It’s okay, Felix is too.”

Felix pulled out a strangely coloured bag of doritos from the handleless cupboards in the side of the counter. “Hey, don’t drag me into this-”

Minho stood up, ditching his duffle bag from his lap onto the chair as he did so. “Why would I be jealous of your arms? I’ve got my own.”

Jisung faltered at that, wobbling as he propped himself up onto one of the stools. Minho couldn’t see the expression on his face but Felix did, and apparently it was funny. Ever the troublemaker, Felix popped open the packet before saying the words that may as well have been ‘kill Jisung’. “Prove it.”

Minho easily accepted the challenge, pushing up the sleeves of his own baggy t-shirt and revealing arms that made Jisung want to do unspeakable things. His cheeks were burning by this point, Han avoided confronting the challenge in Minho’s eyes by grabbing a handful of the doritos Felix was eating. 

Minho counted Jisung’s silence as a win, smiling as Jisung crunched sadly on the strange looking doritos. 

Jisung swallowed before sighing, his eyebrows pulled together into a melancholy frown. “Great. So Changbin’s dating someone without telling me, Minho’s got hotter arms than mine and Felix just allowed me to consume doritos that taste like ketchup. My day is ruined.”

Felix looked at the packet in his hands, confused. “But they’re sriracha flavoured…”

Minho reached across and patted Jisung’s head as he sat down, earning a protest from Jisung but paying it no mind. “Can I try some?”

Felix shrugged. “Sure.”

Jisung watched expectantly as Minho placed a single chip carefully into his mouth, hoping that Minho would at least share the same sentiment as he did, even if neither of the two sympathised for his situation. 

Minho chewed, before shaking his head slowly. He swallowed, then proceeded to take a sip of his peach tea in an attempt to rid his mouth of the blasphemy. “Tastes like sriracha to me. But why corn chips, though? It’s… unpleasant.”

Felix laughed. “I think they’re running out of ideas, but if I’m honest, I’ll probably still buy this shit.”

Minho shrugged. “We are nothing if not consumers.”

Jisung slumped onto the counter. “Ugh, now you two are bonding over terrible chips and I’m being ignored, drowning in misery.”

Minho smiled at Jisung, not noticing Felix’s watchful gaze on the side of his head. “As if anyone could ignore you.”

Jisung sat up, pouting dramatically. “Hey, I know I’m loud you don’t have to be _rude_ about it!”

“That’s not what I mea- okay.”

As Jisung went back to sulking, Felix dumped the rejected bag of doritos into the empty container they presumed was the rubbish bin. 

It took awhile for him to find it, as the only knowledge they had of it was Minho’s scan of the main suite, but he got there in the end and returned with a look on his face that Minho didn’t recognise. “Hey, Jisung? Would you and Changbin get in trouble if AFO knew you liked girls _and_ guys? Like, are they still primitive like that?”

The question peaked Jisung’s interest. “I… I don’t actually know. Uh, why?”

Felix paled slightly. “There was a camera in the main.”

Jisung’s eyes widened slightly in fear, and Minho knew he had to say something. “Don’t worry too much. Even if they were homophobic pieces of shit, they wouldn’t do anything to you. They couldn’t. You’re the best racer in America, and Changbin’s clearly a brilliant race engineer and hell, manager as well.”

Jisung’s smile was small, and his voice smaller. “Thank you.”

Minho, feeling brave, continued. His own fears and late night thoughts tumbled off his tongue, and he really wondered why the two of them cared enough to listen. “If _I_ came out to the public as being gay and there was negative feedback from the media, they could get rid of my sponsors in minutes. If I continue losing and lose sponsors as well… I’d…”

Felix looked at Minho with angry eyes, though they weren’t for Minho. “Minho, if they pulled shit like that on you because of your sexual orientation, I’d leave. I’d stop racing for this country.”

Jisung’s hand slipped on top of his, his rings cold against the back of his hand. Minho’s breath caught as Jisung’s wide eyes met his. “I would too.”

Minho swallowed, glancing down at his feet but not withdrawing his hand from beneath Jisung’s. His nerves calmed, and suddenly it was fine. Yeah, he had just told a random stranger and his crush about how terrified he was of the media but they weren’t mad. In retrospect, he couldn’t even remember why he thought they would be. “Thanks. It really means a lot.”

Felix grinned. “Anytime pal. You seem like an awesome guy and if anyone gives you that garbage, I’d fight them for you.”

Jisung smiled.

Minho then realised that he had just unintentionally come out to Felix, but his panic was shortlived because Felix didn’t seem the type to spread that kind of private information. Sensing the emotions in the conversation getting more sad, Minho almost missed the chaotic and terrifying energy the pair had radiated earlier on. “To be honest, I’ve considered coming out multiple times. Of course, I would get to be myself, but also the reporters wouldn’t constantly say ‘I’m sure he’s got that lucky girl already, ladies.’”

Jisung withdrew his hand to cover his mouth as he laughed. “Oh my god, I hate that I know exactly how terrible that is.”

Felix sighed. “I can’t relate. I’m not into guys, nor do I have a girlfriend.”

Minho snorted. “Sucks to be you, Felix.”

Jisung’s face lit up as Felix crossed his arms, glad it was someone else’s turn to sulk. Minho laughed at that, causing Jisung to smile his way as well, the toothy kind that he has right after a hard earned victory. The sight caused Minho’s heart to race much faster than what was probably healthy, but he couldn’t help it. It was Han Jisung.

. . .

It was 3:00 by the time Maya woke from her sleep, rubbing her eye as she searched for her glasses with her other hand. After finding the sought-after objects, she pulled her ever difficult curls back into a ponytail, hoping the hair tie would snap as they often did.

Satisfied that she could now see clearly and looked slightly more presentable, she walked to the entrance of the lodgings room, hoping that Felix would still be in the bar so she didn’t have to search the entire plane for him. 

Apparently he was.

The sight Maya witnessed was not something unfamiliar, only this time it was more than just Han and Felix involved. At the marble countered bar in the centre of the room stood Felix, Jisung and Lee Minho, someone she would never have placed being involved in her own racer’s chaos.

Felix was laughing hysterically, gripping the countertop for support and trying to keep the dozens of grapes inside his cheeks as he wheezed. Jisung looked furious, the only thing stopping him from leaping over the bar at Felix being Minho’s grip on his wrists. Minho looked amused, which was more than Maya had ever seen him express.

“I do _not_ look like that! LEE FELIX STOP OR I’LL-”

Maya cleared her throat and three pairs of dark brown eyes flicked her way. The three racers froze in shock and a silence painted the room as Maya tried to form words. The awkward silence was broken by a grape dropping from Felix’s mouth. 

Minho’s nose scrunched as his face contorted with disgust. He ducked behind Jisung for protection, releasing the younger’s wrists. Concluding that her brain was still too sleepy to reprimand the young racers, Maya raised an eyebrow and that did the trick.

Felix snapped back into movement, picking up the grape from the floor and chewing the few that remained in his mouth as he left in search of a trash can. Jisung began laughing. “I c-can’t believe that just happened, your face, Maya- pfft.”

Maya yawned into her elbow, but there was a smile on her face. “You two are going to be the death of me.”

Minho groaned, shifting from behind Jisung as he sat back up on one of the stools, burying his face in his hands. “Agreed.”

Jisung snorted, patting Minho’s head as the older had done to him earlier. “If only you had stayed in the main suite.”

Before Maya could question what had caused the vigorous shaking of Minho’s head, Felix reappeared with a guilty look on his face. He looked so apologetic that Maya’s heart of stone cracked a bit. “Sorry, Maya. Uh, did you want to talk to me?”

Maya sighed but with a smile that she hoped would comfort Felix. “I just wanted to suggest you get a few hours of sleep before we land at 9:00. You’ve all had a long day.”

Felix glanced at Minho and Han, before nodding slowly. “Yeah, I think I could do with some sleep. Uh, are you two coming?”

Jisung bit his lip as he came up with an excuse to wait for his manager. He still needed to question Changbin about his not-so-secret relationship. “I kinda wanna wait for Changbin… I don’t really like sleeping on planes.”

Minho simply nodded, though Maya was pretty sure his attention was more on Han then on the suggestion she offered. “Okay, well, I can’t force you. Felix, if you need me I’ll be in the main suite.”

Felix adjusted his hoodie, hugging Maya before blowing a kiss in the other two’s direction. “Nighty night, lovelies.”

Shaking her head, Maya walked through to the main suite, meaning only Jisung and Minho were there to respond to Felix’s farewell. Jisung stuck his tongue out. “Sleep well, loser.”

Felix rolled his eyes and disappeared into the lodging area. As the Australian finally left, Minho stood to stretch his arms only to be interrupted by a distressed yelp from Jisung. Minho’s eyes immediately snapped down to where Jisung was still seated, the younger glaring at the doorway Felix had exited through. 

Felix’s deep voice rang out, his accent thicker as he sang. “One point to Felix~”

Jisung whined in protest and Minho was still very lost. “Felix, throwing socks at people shouldn’t count as a scare, its _instinct_ for me to dodge them.”

“Can’t hear you, I’m already asleep.”

Jisung cursed under his breath, only then noticing Minho’s confused gaze resting on the balled-up socks on the countertop. He covered his mouth, laughing into his hand when he realised Minho had no clue what they were on about. “Felix and I are having a competition to see who can scare the other most by the time the Prix ends.”

Minho shook his head, amused but trying not to show it. “Yeah, that sounds like something you’d do.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?!”

Ignoring the rookie, Minho set about clearing the bar of the mess they’d made. Despite his hurt feelings, Jisung got up and helped him soon after.

It was a comfortable silence that they worked in, only broken by the occasional crinkle of a packet, or Jisung’s quiet humming.

It was strange how his anxiety had dulled to almost nothing while spending time with Jisung and Felix, their presences so distracting he had completely forgotten that they were on board a jet. Normally by this point, he was trying to sleep, or had locked himself in the bathroom due to the nausea. But right now, aside from being tired, he couldn’t feel much better.

The sky was surprisingly blue for the time of day, and the white layer of clouds made the color all the more prevalent. Han’s dark hair appeared much lighter in the direct sunlight as he wandered over to the seating area they had used earlier to pick up the empty bottles. Minho exhaled quietly, his body wanting nothing more than to reach out and touch the piece of sunlight that rested on Han’s profile, and tried to distract himself but taking what he had collected so far and disposing of it.

Jisung turned back to watch Minho walk towards the main room, a smile on his face as he walked lost in thought. It made Jisung’s insides warm, the way Minho had just started cleaning up despite the fact none of the mess was really his, and he was smiling his pretty smile that Jisung was falling in love with.

_Oh._

By the time he had ditched his own collection of packets and bottles, narrowly avoided Changbin spotting him observing him and Seungmin where they were cuddled into the corner of the cabin and nearly walked into the archway, Jisung was very ready for sleep. Minho could tell that from the second Jisung re-entered the room, the younger’s tired eyes a dead giveaway. 

Jisung tried to stop himself from yawning as he climbed back up onto the stool he now considered his permanent home. He wasn’t an American citizen, he was a Private AFO Jet citizen.

Minho cleared his throat, brushing his hands off on his track pants. “Hey, I know you were, uh, waiting for Changbin, but I think you should come get some sleep.”

Han straightened at that, trying to make himself seem alert. “What are you talking about? I’m fine. If Changbin doesn’t need sleep, then neither do I.”

“That is… the worst logic I have ever heard.”

Jisung crossed his arms over his surprisingly broad chest, and turned on his stool to face Minho fully, leaning back against the countertop. “Sure, it’s bad, but you can’t make me leave this bar, so-”

Jisung cut himself off as Minho raised a challenging eyebrow. His mouth was dry. 

“Oh?”

Minho grabbed Jisung’s boot immediately, tugging him forward so gently that Jisung didn’t even move. His actions told Jisung that the older man didn't want to hurt him. Jisung gripped the edge of his stool, laughing. 

His attempts to move Jisung with only his feet proving fruitless, Minho frowned, stepping back to consider his other options. Jisung squeaked in surprise when Minho’s warm arms wrapped around his torso.

Jisung’s steel-like grip on his stool tightened, and Minho was surprised at how strong the younger racer was, though he probably shouldn’t be considering just how vigorous their training was. Through gritted teeth, he tried to convince Jiusng even though he knew he was fighting a losing battle. “Jisung. Let. Go.”

Jisung laughed despite the fact Minho’s arms were constricting his stomach. “No, you.”

Minho had had enough. Lifting Jisung upwards, the younger had no choice but to release the chair or Minho would have had to lift that as well. “Hey! Put me down!”

“No, you’re coming to bed.”

Jisung growled. “You aren’t winning this.”

Before Minho could get another word in, Jisung did something Minho didn’t see coming; he wrapped his lean legs around Minho’s waist. This, of course, caused Minho to lose balance for a few moments due to the sudden shift in weight, but more importantly, made every gay cell in Minho’s body scream with joy. 

Jisung let a noise of concern as Minho stumbled back a few steps, to the expanse of clear wall by the doorway, Minho’s arms still wrapped around him meaning that even if Jisung untangled his legs in time, Minho would pull him down with him.

The air was knocked from Minho’s lungs as he bumped into the wall, but as soon as he regained balance, he realised the intimacy of their current positions. He immediately loosened his grip, flushing as he made eye contact with Jisung, whose face was inches from his own but Jisung didn’t seem to have any intention of letting go.

Minho’s eyes traced a mole on Jisung’s cheek, a dark spot on Han’s golden skin that made Minho smile despite the adrenaline coursing his body. Jisung was so close that Minho could close the gap and kiss- _Minho, focus._ “I-I’m sorry. Do you… do you still want me to put you down?”

Jisung’s brain was working on overdrive. He was currently in Minho’s arms, with his legs wrapped around his waist, Minho was apologising to _him_ for some reason, and the only thought that his brain was screaming was _you could kiss his dumb, perfect face right now, Jisung, come on._ “No. Uh, I mean. I’m okay like this.”

As Jisung giggled nervously, slinging his arms around Minho’s neck, Minho adjusted his grip on Han’s waist. _He was so light_. “You’re even prettier up close. C-can I kiss you, Minho?”

_What._

Minho felt like he was dreaming. He _was_ dreaming, right? 

Well, if he was, he definitely didn’t want to wake up. Without replying, Minho leant upwards and pressed his lips to Jisung’s own.

_Oh._

Jisung’s lips were soft, and Minho felt his heart soar as they moved against his. _He was kissing Han Jisung.._

Jisung’s hands shifted from where they were slung around Minho’s neck to the older racer’s dark hair, and threaded through it with little hesitation. Minho sighed at the sensation, and mirroring Jisung’s confidence, moved his own grip to Jisung’s thighs instead of his waist, causing Jisung to shiver under his touch. 

It was when the voices in the main suite grew louder that the pair finally broke apart, both breathless in disbelief. Jisung’s legs were wobbly as Minho gently set him back on the ground, though Jisung couldn’t bring himself to take his hands away.

Minho murmured, his eyes hungrily absorbing the sight of Jisung’s blown pupils and parted lips. “Woah.”

Jisung’s shocked expression morphed into a shy smile, and his fingers played subconsciously with Minho’s hair as he tried to form words. “Y-yeah.”

Minho rested his hands on Jisung’s slim waist, not able to believe that he was really allowed to just _touch_ Jisung like that. “I... I really liked that. Did you...?”

Jisung flushed, his cheeks darkening, withdrawing his fingers from Minho’s hair to rub the back of his neck. “Yeah. I mean, yes. I can't even speak right now, I liked it that much.”

Minho’s laugh was choked because _holy heck this was happening_ , but the sound of approaching voices, more specifically Seungmin and Changbin's approaching voices, grew louder. He glanced at the doorway next to them, and sighed as he reluctantly pulled his hands away from Jisung. “We should… we should probably actually go to bed but… we will talk about this later, right?”

Jisung grinned so bright that Minho was very tempted to kiss him again, but the idea that his manager and close friend could be about to walk in managed to tame the urge. “Absolutely.”

Jisung was pretty confident he would dream of Minho in the hours to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((:  
> kissy kissy
> 
> you can find me on instagram: oh_cxnada,  
> this is where you will find me fangirling over NCT Dream and Stray Kids, fanart for the fic by insanely talented people, and gives you a platform to yell at me about literally anything,,,,, love u guys and see you next time hehe


	19. No Rest For the Wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minho smiled drowsily at the thought of Jisung, but before he could lose himself in his daydreams again, Seungmin’s far-too-awake voice dragged him back to the present. “Minho, get up.”   
> \- - - - - - - -  
> After a few days off, its back to the usual drivers performance workouts, only this time its in Monaco and Minho is in the same room as the racer he not only kissed but is also head over heels for. The plot unfolds.

Minho woke with a shock as his covers were yanked away from his body, exposing his bare chest to the cool morning air of Monte Carlo. Or at least, the cool morning air of the contemporary hotel that would be his home for the next three weeks.

Even if he didn’t make it to the Prix Finals, he would be stuck here to wallow in his defeat. Of course, this would also be a good thing, as he would be able to cheer Jisung on from the sidelines and be there to congratulate him when he took first place.

Minho smiled drowsily at the thought of Jisung, but before he could lose himself in his daydreams again, Seungmin’s far-too-awake voice dragged him back to the present. “Minho, get up.” 

How was Seungmin already up? They both landed in Monaco at 9:00 last night and then proceeded to take another hour to get to the hotel, so why the heck was Seungmin so perky?

Although he knew it wasn’t going to work, Minho whined, squeezing his eyes shut tighter and making grabby hands towards where his blanket had been yanked from. “Seungmin, come on, give me a break.”

Seungmin clicked his tongue, walking over to the window and tugging the curtains open. “Nuh uh, Lee Know, no rest for the wicked. You haven’t done your routine for nearly a week now and I’ve already paid for your gym pass at a really nice place down the street. Come on, Know, it's 7:00.”

Minho groaned, collapsing back into his mattress before slowly opening his eyes to stare at the creamy yellow ceiling. “Fine. 10 minutes?”

Seungmin smiled at that, already halfway through the door. “Gladly. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

Minho, in fact, took five minutes to get changed into joggers and a tank top, knowing that there wasn’t point in freshening up and that Seungmin probably had already ordered his protein shake at the bar downstairs. 

Casting an offhanded glance in the mirror as he laced up his trainers, Minho smirked at his messy-haired reflection before straightening and navigating the top floor of the small hotel as best as he could with only the hazy knowledge of the layout from the night before. It was pretty for a hotel, Minho supposed. With a wildflower theme, they danced the fine line between classy and old person’s rest home better than hotels Minho had stayed in previously. Though he has to admit, he had never been to Italy before, so this could be at a low standard compared to the others and AFO had just booked it because it was cheaper.

As he stepped down into what he hoped was the lobby, Minho glanced around at the people, wondering if anyone else was headed to the gym this morning. He was disappointed, of course, cause the only person he found was Seungmin waiting patiently by the doorway looking far more put together than any one should this early in the morning.

The other looked up from his phone screen with an amused expression as a still sleep but ‘mad’ Minho stomped towards him. “Morning, sleeping beauty.”

He offered Minho his shake in a coffee cup, which Minho eyed hungrily before snatching it, popping the lid off and drinking all of it in a single swig. 

Seungmin wrinkled his nose as Minho crushed the cup with his hand and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, knowing full well it would disgust Seungmin. Minho then flashed a smile. “Morning.”

Seungmin sighed, rolling his eyes. “Let’s go, you’ve already attracted attention.”

Minho froze and gazed hesitantly around the lobby to find the receptionist and a man at the counter watching him with curious eyes. He looked back at Seungmin for help, only to find that his friend had already stepped through the gold edged revolving doors and was making his way down the street.

_Yeah, he deserved to be left behind._

He quickly followed, clenching his hand around the paper coffee cup and its lid knowing full well he was going to have to dispose of them as he walked.

The morning wasn’t that cold; it was still only early autumn, so the sun was up, but not fully lighting the sky. Minho had hoped they would be able to see the ocean from the hotel like he could from his house in New Orleans, and despite the fact he hadn’t gotten that, the angular houses and creamy white building lining the quiet one-way street weren’t all that bad an alternative.

Minho knows how lucky they were to get a hotel on a secluded street in Monte Carlo during peak tourist season, which is of course the Grand Prix season, and he had to give kudos to AFO for that. But he wasn’t about to admit that.

He jogged to catch up with Seungmin, who pocketed his phone when Minho wrapped a muscular arm around his shoulders, a wry smile on his face. “Finally catch up, Know?”

Minho gave Seungmin a withering look before rousing a threatening smile. “Apparently so. Hey, Minnie? Do you know where I can put this cup? Cause right now your hoodie is looking _real_ appealing-”

Seungmin was quick to act, slipping from Minho’s loose grip immediately and snatching the weapon away to dispose of it in a nearby rubbish can. Minho was slightly disappointed he hadn’t gotten to annoy Seungmin, but he had no doubt the day would present more opportunities.

Seungmin raised an eyebrow as he matched Minho’s pace again. “What’s got you so pissy anyways? You knew you were gonna have to start up again at some point.”

Minho groaned at the mention of exercise again, rolling his shoulders. “My back is sore from those shitty mattresses on the plane. And my arms are sore from-”

Minho cut himself off before he could say he had been lifting Han Jisung, because that would mean thinking about the kiss and therefore falling into another blissful daydream and being questioned by Seungmin. Han had felt light at the time, but that had been Drunk On Han Jisung Minho speaking, not Sober Minho. 

Seungmin, being Seungmin, had already noticed the flush in Minho’s pale cheeks and dodged around a bike stand before prodding him. “Sore from…?”

Minho shook his head at the playful tone in Seungmin’s voice. “Nuh-uh, Kim Seungmin, you don’t get to know my secrets until you tell me yourself what’s going on with you and the love of your life. And don’t lie; Hyunjin already filled me in on the management program.”

Seungmin’s pupils shook at the mention of Changbin, but his face was unwavering. After a couple of seconds, he looked away from Minho and smiled, speaking softly and sincerely. “He asked me to be his boyfriend. At the after-party.”

Minho grinned at the fond expression on Seungmin’s face. He had _never_ gotten to see Seungmin like this, the younger always having helped Minho, Hyunjin and Jeongin with their crushes but never having any of his own. Seungmin hadn’t been sure of his sexuality, but he had admitted to Minho at some point that he was pretty sure he wasn’t attracted to anyone. 

Apparently Changbin was the exception. Minho is naturally incredibly protective of his friends, even if they don’t know it, but although he’ll still act stoic around Changbin for a while, he already had a gut feeling that the man was a good guy. Considering how much he seems to love Jisung and how much Jisung and Felix love him, Changbin can’t be all bad.

Minho was beyond happy for his friend.

“No _way_ , Minnie. That’s so cool!”

Seungmin laughed as Minho slung his arm back around his neck, only this time in a friendly manner. “Thanks, Minho. But get off me, you smell.”

Minho pouted as Seungmin shoved him away. “Seungmin, we were having a moment! I’m going to smell even worse in like, ten minutes, so you should accept my love now.”

Seungmin shrugged. “Guess I’ll just never accept your love, sorry Minho.”

Minho rolled his eyes, turning his attention away from Seungmin, instead eyeing the phone in his manager’s hand. Without pausing to plan, he slipped it out of Seungmin’s palm and turned the screen on. 

Panicking for only a second, Seungmin was quick to calm down when he realised there was literally no way Minho could get into his phone. He had properly locked it now, as last time Minho had found Seungmin's easily unlockable phone, he downloaded Tinder and swiped right on every single person in Louisiana. So, his phone was now unbreachable but that didn’t mean Minho couldn’t check his lockscreen and see the latest message from Changbin. “Ya, Lee Minho.”

Minho dodged away from Seungmin’s hands, scrolling down his notifications. He pulled a face at the number of love heart emojis Changbin had used, before his eyes settled on Jeongin’s message. His Korean was rusty but he got the gist.

**demonchildonwheels**

_hey seungmin-ah!! im landing in monaco tonight_

Minho’s eyes widened at that, and he dropped the phone back into Seungmin’s waiting palm as he questioned it. “Jeongin’s made it to Monaco?”

Seungmin glanced at the message Minho was talking about, opening it and replying before actually paying Minho any attention. A breeze fluffed Seungmin’s wavy brown hair as they turned a corner, nearing a main street by the sounds of things. “Yeah, he came third in the Korean finals.”

Minho smiled slightly at that, looking forward. “Wow, that kid has come a long way. Has he made any progress with English? He could come to America.”

Seungmin snorted, shaking his head. “I mean, he’s learnt the entire alphabet backwards, so I’d call that progress.”

“Damn, I’m not even sure if I could do that, and I’ve lived in America for years.”

“Well, you aren’t exactly a good- oh look, that’s our stop.” Seungmin turned sharply and stepped up towards an industrial building that seemed out of place, a metal monster hiding in the depths of a statuesque city. Minho didn’t understand how Seungmin had been paying attention to their surroundings as well as arguing with him, but he was happy he had because otherwise Minho probably would have avoided this terrifying building altogether. It’s okay, Minho, it's just a gym for goodness sake.

Minho followed closely behind Seungmin, observing the waiting room with cautious eyes as Seungmin conversed in a strange mix of languages with the receptionist. In the end, the short man at the counter took the card Seungmin had been offering the entire time and successfully scanned it, before apologising. 

“Oh, uh. Sorry. Uh, through… through door. 8.”

Seungmin glanced at the doorway to their right before smiling politely, thanking the man and gesturing for Minho to follow him. 

The older lowered his voice, hoping he didn't look as jumpy as he felt. “What happened?”

Seungmin blinked, confused by Minho’s question for a moment before laughing. “Oh! He thought we were tourists from Korea. When I told him we were here representing America he thought we were too young and too… not white. Anyways, it's fine, it worked out.”

Minho smiled nervously. “Okay. I was- I was kinda worried for a second there.”

Seungmin recognised the tense muscles in Minho’s shoulders, and he paused from his quest down the dark blue corridor to check if his friend was okay. There was a slight pinch between his brows as he pressed a hand to Minho’s bare forearm. “Are you good, Minho?”

Minho nodded, glancing at the ground. Apparently he hadn't been as subtle as he thought “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just… nervous. I mean, I’m in Monaco.”

Seungmin smiled fondly, tilting the racer’s head up to look at him. “Yes you are. And you deserve to be here, Minho. If it gets too much, you know you can come to me, right?”

Minho whispered, suddenly weirdly emotional. What is going on with him? “Of course, Minnie. I love you, man.”

Seungmin grinned at that, his dark brown eyes wearing a smile that matched his lips. “I love you too, Minho.”

Emotions made Minho awkward. “Uh, thanks.”

Seungmin snorted, before ruffling Minho’s already messy hair. The victim glared at him but Seungmin had grown used to his terrifying gaze after managing him for two years. “You’re welcome.”

Straightening with an expression of distaste, Minho shot a look at the door number a couple steps away and recognised the number 8. “Look, there’s our room.”

Minho stepped to open the door carefully only to be stopped by Seungmin, who wore a disconcerting smirk that contrasted his angelic smile from seconds before. He knew something. “I’m warning you now that there are other people in that room. People that I know you’re friendly with, if Hyunjin’s telling me the truth.”

Fuck you, Hwang Hyunjin.

Minho grit his teeth, closing his eyes. “He told you about Jisung, didn’t he.”

“He certainly did.”

“And you’re never going to stop bringing my crush up?”

“Of course not, Know, who do you take me for?”

“I’m going in now, and you’re going to stop talking. Got it?”

Seungmin shrugged. “Starting from today, I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

Minho sighed and opened the door. 

. . .

If Changbin hadn’t been doing his reps with him, and Jisung hadn’t been the competitive bitch he was, then he probably would be dead by now. It didn’t start as a competition, but if Changbin was going further than the daily schedule, then Jisung was going to do it as well.

“150- 151-”

Jisung’s arms finally gave out at his one hundred and fifty first dumb bell press, and he lay face down on the floor as his entire body screamed. He whined. “Changbin, what the fuck.”

Changbin pressed one more push-up, breathing a hiss through his teeth before he set his knees down and leaned back, head upwards to open his airways fully. “Jisung, get up. What do you mean, what the fuck?”

Jisung dragged himself into a sitting position, his face very clearly distressed. “You’re my manager. You shouldn’t be better than- better than your actual racer.”

Changbin wiped his face with the bottom of his shirt, taking a few more deep breaths before he went to get his and Jisung’s water bottles. His voice was lower than normal, throaty from exertion. “Jisung, you’re 20 years old, you’re still growing. There’s only so far you can push your kid body.”

Despite knowing Changbin was right, Jisung still felt the need to defend his body. “Hey, do these look like kid abs to you?”

Changbin was on his way back but quickly shielded his face when Jisung flashed his entire sweaty torso in his direction. “Jisung, I’m not going to check you out. Put your shirt back on properly, kid.”

Jisung was half-way through doing exactly that when Lee Minho opened the door. There was a pregnant pause as Minho’s sharp eyes settled on Han with his sleeveless shirt barely covering his chest, and everyone in the room, or in Minho’s case, the doorway, froze. 

Then Jisung frantically tugged his shirt back on, Changbin began laughing and Minho averted his eyes, which had widened significantly. 

Changbin managed a greeting between his laughter. “Hey, Minho.”

Minho sucked in a breath, walked over to the cycles near the window and dumped his duffle bag before he turned and proceeded to pretend that nothing happened. “Hey, Changbin. Han.”

Jisung whispered a weak hi before Seungmin stuck his head in. “What just happened?”

Jisung and Minho both looked at the manager and shook their heads, but Changbin perked up dramatically at the sight of his boyfriend. “Minho walked in on Jisung being an idiot, but who cares. Come ‘ere, Minnie.”

Seungmin studied Changbin from head to toe, a smirk on his face but slowly shook his head. “Nah, you’re all sweaty.”

Jisung smiled knowingly at Changbin’s pout. He had been informed- no, he had shaken the information out of Changbin on the ride to Monte Carlo the night before, and Changbin eventually surrendered and told him the full story of what Hyunjin had shared with bullet points.

Changbin chucked Jisung’s water bottle at him without thinking before making grabby hands at Seungmin, who’s only movement was stepping closer to Minho to wish him farewell. “Catch ya later, Know.”

Minho raised an eyebrow at Seungmin, who was clearly aware of what he was doing. “Yeah, sure, Min.”

His boyfriend still ignoring him, Changbin took off his cap and threw it to the ground, sulking. Jisung unscrewed his water bottle and chugged a few mouthfuls, enjoying the show. “ _Seungminnie_. I’ve waited all this time-”

Seungmin rolled his eyes, stepped forward and pressed a quick kiss to Changbin’s cheek before attempting to continue his exit. It was when Changbin demanded one on the lips that Jisung stopped enjoying the show and decided it was time for his best friend to either get a grip or leave the room. 

Minho watched in amusement as Jisung discarded his water bottle on the floor, tucked the front of his navy top slightly into his sweats and shoved Changbin towards the door Seungmin was leaving through. “You can take this affection elsewhere, Seo, I’m already struggling to keep my breakfast down.”

“Ya! Jisung stop-”

Changbin immediately stopped talking when Seungmin pressed a finger to his lips and then wrapped his other hand around Changbin’s wrists. He tugged him outside with a sultry smile that Jisung wished he could unsee. Seconds later, the door closed. 

Jisung pulled a face. “I really thought they were cute for a second.”

“Hmm, same.”

Oh. right he’s with Minho alone now. _Minho. Alone._

Jisung’s cheeks were still burning hot when he turned to face Minho. “Hi.”

Minho smiled back from where he was stretching his calves. “Hi.”

“Uh… how are you feeling?”

Minho hummed, and Jisung tried not to look at the veins on Minho’s arms as the older racer leant down further, stretching his back at the same time. “I’m… better now. Ready to start, I guess. You?”

Jisung groaned at that, but he still walked back to pick up Changbin’s notes and his drink bottle so that he could move on to the next regimen. “I’m already tired, but Changbin’s upped my performance program in the last couple months, so I still have a lot to do.”

Minho licked his lips. “Well, you look like you can handle it.”

_Fuck._ Jisung made himself busy by pretending to read the next step even though by now this ‘new’ routine was drilled into his brain. 

He heard Minho exhale sharply, like a restrained laugh, before the older sat down to stretch his quads. Jisung glanced over at the cycles but decided he was better off running today, shifting to the treadmills a few meters away so that he wouldn’t be so distracted. 

Clearing his throat, he finally had the courage to smile in Minho’s direction. “Thanks.”

Minho’s response was to wink at him and Jisung’s brain immediately panicked, so sure he had the situation under control and now things were spiralling violently out of hand. His heart rate picked up. 

Flicking on a few settings, the sound of which was not enough to break the heated silence of the room, Jisung tried his best to calm down. _How many miles do I have to run today, again?_

He glanced down at the notebook and closed his eyes, wishing he was far away from this room and Minho’s beautiful person. 18 miles.

Minho widened his legs further, and watched in amusement as Han looked as though the life was being sucked from his body. “Not good news?”

Jisung nodded wearily, chucking the notebook to the ground beside the treadmill and replying before stepping on. “Gotta run a marathon.”

Minho snorted. “Same. We can suffer together, I suppose.”

Jisung couldn't help but smile, his heart calm enough by now that he could look over at Minho. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

When Jisung glanced back towards Minho, he hadn't known what to expect, but he certainly didn't expect to find the other racer doing a stretch that had led to him being nearly in the splits. Jisung startled, his voice coming out shaky from running. “What the heck? You’re so flexible!”

Minho’s eyes shot up to Han immediately at the sound of the younger in distress, but he calmed by the time Jisung had finished his sentence. He glanced down at his position and confirmed that he was, indeed, stretching his legs further than a normal person could. 

“Oh, right. Yeah, I danced as a kid. And through highschool.”

Jisung nodded, though it kind of just blended in with his entire body bobbing in time with his footsteps. “Really? That’s so cool! Uh, did you study in America?”

Minho shook his head before standing, apparently having stretched sufficiently. He stood up, and to Han’s surprise, stepped up onto the treadmill next to his and began fiddling with the settings. He spoke of Korea with a smile. “Nah, I grew up in Gimpo. Korea. My family… they wanted me to be an idol dancer, you know?”

Jisung nodded cautiously, a slightly distasteful expression on his face as he remembered the many encounters he had experienced during his international childhood with scouts and Korean celebrities. “Yeah, I know the ones.”

Minho continued, looking down at the data presented before stepping up onto the treadmill. “Well, anyways. I studied dance for… 10 years? Yeah, until I left Korea.”

Jisung couldn’t stop the curiosity bubbling in his chest. He didn’t like to be nosy, but everything in his body that wasn’t screaming for him to go home and sleep for 24 hours was telling him to get to know more about the person he was slowly falling for. “Do you mind if I ask why you left? Or is it… personal?”

Minho’s smile faltered at that, but he made eye contact with Jisung that told him he was being very sincere. “It’s kinda personal, I guess. But… I think I want you to know.”

Jisung protested. “Please don’t feel like you owe me anything. If it's like-”

“Jisung. I want to tell you.”

Jisung quietened down at the sound of his first name slipping from Minho's mouth, his ears hot. He broke eye contact and glanced down to where his red trainers were jogging a rhythm on the rubbery track. _One, two._ “Okay.”

Minho ran at a faster pace to Han, yet somehow he still managed to keep his voice level as he spoke. His lips moved to form the words carefully, as though it was an art. Jisung supposed it could be. “To make a... long and unpleasant story short, when I was training for dance, I met this kid who’s dad was one of Korea’s best racers at the time. You know Yang Changmin?”

Jisung nodded, his eyes wide. “Yeah, definitely.”

Minho hummed in acknowledgement, but didn't look to Han's surprised face, knowing that he would lose his nerve. “Anyways, with Jeongin, the kid, I learnt about how much I loved racing and that I was pretty good at it. I was probably fifteen when I decided I was going to do something about it, and I told my parents that I didn’t want to dance anymore, which they… were not happy about.”

Jisung’s lips parted, mainly in shock of the pieces of Minho’s story coming together, but also because he had run almost 2 miles and was beginning to breathe heavier.

Minho continued slowly, his smile no longer present. “They had my whole life set out and I just… blew it up. Over a couple of months, I called my best friend- Hyunjin, you know him. His parents moved him out to America when he was a kid so that they could work, but he was entered in a special dance program there. I also knew that in America they had Formula One programs for aspiring teens. I’m sure you can guess what happened from there.”

Jisung gaped. “No way.”

“Yeah. I told my parents I wanted to dance there instead, and being the rich people they are, the sent me to live with Hyunjin and gave me an allowance, part to pay for my keep and the other to go towards anything else I needed. So, I was in America with my best friend, I had money, I had the knowledge of American programs that Jeongin and his dad gave me, and a dream. And that’s pretty much it.”

Jisung spluttered. “T-that’s fucking insane. I- woah. Do you still talk to Jeongin?”

Minho nodded, laughing awkwardly. “Yup. He was best friends with Seungmin, which is kinda how I got my manager.”

Jisung’s eyes were wide, and he used his hand to shoved his sweaty hair off his forehead as he thought. “Woah. You were so brave.”

Minho licked his lips nervously, avoiding eye contact. “Brave? Nah, I was just stupid.”

Jisung laughed breathily. “I mean, sure, but you were just a kid. You were so committed to your dream. It’s admirable.”

Minho spoke, his voice quiet, but a small smile on his face, soft and pliant. “Thanks, Jisung.”

Jisung grinned. “Someone’s gotta say it.”

After a few more minutes of running in silence, when Han’s number of miles ran flicked up to 4, he exhaled a worried question that came to mind. “Do you… do you still talk to your parents?”

Minho shook his head, his expression still and emotionless. “No. They slowly stopped answering my calls after Hyunjin’s parents first told them I was in a training program for formula one. Not dance. I haven’t tried to contact them since… before the accident.”

Jisung’s eyes softened. “Oh, Minho. I- that’s an awful thing for any kid to experience. Losing your parents.”

Minho shook his head stiffly. “I deserved it, Han, look what I did.”

“Yeah, well, some of it is warranted, but they’re your parents. All of us make stupid decisions sometimes, but the fact that they ignored what you wanted and forced you to be someone you weren’t…”

Minho swallowed, and although he knew there was truth to Han's words, his tone was dismissing. He didn't want to talk about his parents. Not yet. “Yeah, I know. But none of us have apologised, and I think it's too late for that now. Uh, let's just focus on running for a while, yeah?”

Jisung opened his mouth to say more, but the cold expression on Minho’s face reminded him not to push it. Minho had been dealing with this for years. He’s the only one equipped with the information to make the best decision. Han was in no place to tell him what to do.

They ran in silence for a few miles, till Jisung’s machine clicked onto 17 and he was panting more than he should be, especially for a formula one racer who was meant to have inexhaustible stamina. Minho wasn’t looking much better, his sweaty bangs pressing to his forehead and legs heavy.

When Jisung reached the end of his run, and flopped to the floor, Minho wheezed out a laugh despite his condition. “Are you ‘kay, Han?”

Jisung offered a thumbs up from where he lay on his back, earning another laugh from Minho before slowly easing himself into a breathing position and sucking in as much air as his lungs could currently capacitate. His face was burning almost as much as his calves, and Jisung was pretty sure he had passed the point of looking hot working out to looking like a hot mess.

Minho finished up a few minutes later, and similarly to Changbin, he didn’t have his collapsing moment, simply stepping off and then standing with his arms behind his head. He closed his eyes and Jisung took the moment to absorb Minho’s effortless beauty as the other spoke. Black hair ruffled, sticking to his soft, creamy skin. His lips pursed into a cold, almost smile as usual, but his expression was wary when he began speaking. “Ha- Jisung. Thank you for listening. I… I really wanted you to know.”

Jisung smiled, placing his drink bottle back on the ground and swallowing before answering. “It really was the most I could do for you. I haven’t… experienced anything like that, so I don’t feel like I know how to comfort you. I’m sorry for that.”

Minho shook his head, meeting Jisung's eyes properly now. In the depths of the dark pools of cocoa brown, Minho was desperately grateful. His almost smile was warmer now. “It’s okay. I don’t need comforting, it was just nice for you to know.”

Jisung looked away shyly, distracting himself by starting his warm down stretching. Minho still had to do his reps and like fifty other parts of the drivers performance workout, but Jisung was going to try and stay as long as possible. He really didn't want to leave just yet. They still had a lot to talk about.

Minho brushed his hair out of his eyes and walked over to the dumbbell rack, murmuring to himself as he scanned the shelf for the right weights. Jisung glanced at the doorway, only just remembering that Changbin still hadn’t returned. “Hey, where do you think the other two went?”

Minho looked back to where Jisung was stretching on the floor, then to the door, before shrugging. “I’m not sure. Your manager can’t exactly walk around in public like that though, no matter how hot he is.”

Jisung pulled a face. “Did you just call Changbin hot? Really?”

Minho shrugged again, holding back a smile. “Just telling the truth, Han. Your friend may be short, but his body is un-belie-”

“ _STOP._ I get it, I just do not want to hear you thirst over my best friend.”

Minho raised an eyebrow, glancing back as he slid two weights from the shelf. “Jealous?”

Jisung rolled his eyes, but his words didn’t come out as confident as he hoped. “No.”

Minho couldn’t believe he was outwardly flirting like this with Jisung of all people. He had spent so many years hiding his sexuality from the racing world that anything to do with it felt surreal. Han Jisung was surreal. “You don’t sound so sure about that, Hannie.”

Jisung’s eyes widened at the nickname, his back straightening as he tried to defend himself but ended up simply admitting his flaw. “Hey, maybe I’m not so sure.”

Minho nodded, before carrying the weights back over to where Jisung was. “Yeah, I don’t blame you. I would be insanely jealous if you started thirsting over Hyunjin.”

“Jealous type, are we?”

Minho snorted. “You’re flipping the tables too quickly there, Han, I’ll stop being nice if you start teasing me.”

Jisung gave him a cocky smile, far more confident now that he had gained the higher ground. He didn't mean his words. “No you won’t.”

Minho sighed, but didn’t say anything, the sight of Jisung studying him, stretching on the floor of the gym with a teasing smile on his face enough to render him speechless. He sat down before replying quietly. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Jisung clearly didn’t expect Minho to admit defeat so quickly and was flustered by the form of surrender. He watched in silence as Minho rolled out one of the mats next to him and got into position for push-ups. 

Minho met Han’s gaze with a shy smile. “Hey.”

Jisung looked away, pressing forward on his quads, cursing himself for falling for Minho of all people. “H-hey.”

Minho dropped into his first push up and winced as his back sang out in pain. He looked back to Jisung, who had clearly finished his warm down procedure and was improvising now. Only minutes ago, Minho had dumped his entire sob story on Jisung and Han was still looking at him the exact same way he had before. Minho really couldn’t stand him.

Easing off for a second to rub his back, Minho spoke again. “I’m not going to be very, uh, talkative while I do this… but if you had any stories you wanted to share?”

Jisung’s lips parted in surprise, as though he had just watched a statue talk. “Oh! Uh, what do you want to hear?”

Minho shrugged. “I don’t know… well, have _you_ always lived in America?”

He knew the back pain wasn’t anything major and that he could easily push through it once he got started, so he flexed his arms before leaning back down and starting again.

Jisung shook his head, leaning back onto his palms. His eyes followed Minho's movement. “Nope. I was born in Korea too, but I kinda traveled everywhere for my education. Seoul for primary, Malaysia for a private school, and then America for high school.”

Minho didn’t wince when he pushed himself down this time. “Really?”

Jisung hummed. “Yeah. I’m glad I got that opportunity though, to explore so many parts of the world. It did mean I was away from my family a lot, and I never got to have the pets I wanted.”

Minho smiled at that, thinking of his cats, which were probably at Hyunjin’s house as they spoke. “I can imagine that would have been hard.”

Jisung laughed, his eyes on Minho but a faraway look in the depths of the dark brown as he lost himself in his memories. “Yeah, it was for a while. But my parents are always good to me. When I told them about meeting Changbin and Chan in America, and how I wanted to race, they struck up a deal with me; that if I got bad grades because of it, I needed to come back and study in Korea. If I could earn back the money I was putting into it, I would be allowed to stay in America.”

Murmuring a twenty under his breath, Minho shook his head without saying anything, a smile on his face. Jisung smiled fondly at that. “Yeah. Maybe I’m just as crazy as you, being dragged into racing by new friends. But I don’t regret it, just yet.”

Minho puffed. "I mean, I certainly wouldn't if I were a monster rookie."

Jisung laughed, stretching forward to punch Minho's arm half-heartedly. It may have been simply an excuse to touch Minho, but Jisung didn't have to admit that. "You can't talk, you champion."

Minho smiled at that, but quickly changed the subject. "Got anything else to share?"

Jisung gaped. “My life story isn’t enough for you?”

Minho reached fifty pushups and eased back onto his knees, exhaling slowly before answering. “I like your voice.”

“Oh. I guess I can keep going then. Wait, Minho?”

Minho straightened from his crunches immediately at the question in Jisung’s voice. He frowned at the younger. “Yeah?”

Jisung waved his hands at the worry in Minho’s voice, his heartwarming at Minho’s concern. “Don’t worry, I was, uh, just wondering if we could talk about… about the kiss? Like, you clearly know I like you and I was just wondering whether you liked me back… or if it was just-”

“I definitely like you back, Jisung.”

Jisung smiled nervously, as though he couldn’t believe it was happening either. He pushed his hair back again, and his navy blue tank shifted across his chest. “Well. Well, that’s cool. I mean, that’s great. Sorry, I can’t believe this is actually happening. Feels like a… like a dream.”

It was jarring, having known only the perfect, flawless rookie on camera, only now to see that Han Jisung was really just as human as him. When Jisung stuttered, Minho knew he was fucked. He shifted closer to Jisung, till their knees touched, before reaching out tentatively. 

Jisung startled slightly at the soft brush of Minho’s fingers on his cheek, and he looked up with wide, sparkly eyes that Minho could see himself in. Jisung’s awed gaze made Minho’s words cling to his tongue as he spoke. “I know how that feels. But… this is real, right?”

Placing his own hand over Minho’s, Jisung’s voice was breathy. “Yeah. This is real.”

Minho laughed, his chest warm. “I’m very glad. It would be kind of sad to wake up after this.”

Jisung laughed as well, instinctively, before considering Minho’s words. He tugged Minho’s hand from his face so he could thread his fingers through the older’s. “I mean, I don’t know about you, but I’d be pretty okay with that argument at preliminaries being just a bad dream. And my lightweight… behaviour at the party.”

Minho’s thumb ran back and forth over Jisung’s hand as he gasped dramatically. “Jisung! That party was probably the most important part of our relationship! Without you getting drunk, you would never have told me you liked guys as well as girls, and I would never have been blessed with your afterparty fit, and-”

Jisung giggled, leaning forward onto Minho’s shoulder and Minho’s heart fluttered as Jisung’s voice came out muffled by the polyester of his shirt.”Okay, okay, I get it. The after-party wasn’t half bad.”

Then Jisung processed the earlier part of the statement. He pulled back to find a flushed Minho, who’s eyes tracked Jisung’s face automatically. “Our relationship?”

Minho stuttered. “Oh! Uh, we didn’t talk about it- oh, sorry I just assumed-”

Jisung pressed a finger to Minho’s lips, and an uncontrollable grin stretched over his face. “Lee Minho. Will you be my boyfriend?”

_“Yes.”_

Minho couldn’t have said the word with more certainty. Jisung dropped his hand away from Minho’s mouth to press a quick, absent-minded kiss to it before hurriedly releasing Minho’s hand and standing to collect his drink bottle.

Minho sat stunned for a second, raising a hand to his lips before Jisung spoke, turning back to reveal the kiss was a little less absentminded than originally assumed. Jisung’s expression was shy as he teased Minho. “Okay, enough of this being super cute, more finishing your performance work out.”

Minho felt dizzyingly happy. This boy, with his stupid, killer smile was his boyfriend. His tongue worked on its own accord. “I’m sure you’ll find that visually pleasing as well.”

Jisung couldn’t disagree, so he just propped himself up on the end of the treadmill and took another sip of water, trying to calm his racing heart. 

  
  


. . . 

Minho only took an hour to get to the end of his routine, but it didn’t feel that way when Jisung was there, balancing on a yoga ball or playing with the tv. He kinda reminded him of Hyunjin in that manner, only less annoying. Much less annoying.

It was when Jisung began talking about how he, Changbin and Chan produced music in their spare time that Jisung’s phone rung at an incredibly loud volume from where it was abandoned on one of the treadmills, startling the pair from their hysterics.

Minho was sprawled out on the floor, his eyes squeezed closed as he laughed at Jisung’s impression. Jisung’s cheeks hurt from smiling, and although his vision of Minho was kind of askew at the moment, considering he was lying upside down on the bench press, he couldn’t help thinking that he was the luckiest person in the world to be able to see Minho laugh like this. 

Minho was close to tears. “Do it ag-again.”

Jisung cleared his throat, trying to calm his laughter. “Woo! Let me take you to a-”

_Jisung! You’re getting a call! Answer quickly or Changbinnie will beat your ass later-_

Minho looked terrified at the sound of Changbin’s pre-recorded voice for a few seconds, and Jisung jolted in surprise, tumbling off the bench, wincing as he hit the ground. He rubbed his head as he sat up, scanning the room to locate the offender. 

Minho got over his shock and went back to laughing deliriously until Han aggressively shushed him as he answered the phone with a smile the caller wouldn’t be able to see. “Hi! Jisung speaking.”

_“Wassup, mate. Where are you at?”_

Jisung smiled at Felix’s greeting. “At the gym. With Minho. Where are you, actually? Shouldn’t you be working out as well?”

Felix sounded amused. _“Day off. Maya is actually nicer than I thought, or nicer than Changbin at least.”_

Jisung felt the need to defend his friend. “Hey, Changbin isn’t _that_ bad!”

_“Yeah, yeah, I know. The man’s an angel. Speaking of Changbin, I was wondering whether you guys wanted to get lunch or something. I’ve got a guide that tells me there’s a really good pastry cafe just a ways out from the hotel; are you keen?”_

“Well, I’m definitely keen but, uh, Changbin had a conference or something this afternoon… I think it's with the organizers of the Monaco Prix but I’m not sure. I don’t think he can come.”

Minho, who was still sitting on the floor, his long legs straight in front of him as he listened in to Jisung’s side of the conversation. “Seungmin’s going to that as well, I think.”

Jisung nodded at Minho, not wanting him to feel left out. Then he remembered that going to the cafe with Felix would most likely mean he wouldn’t see Minho again, at least until the next time their schedules collided, which would most likely not be until the green track run in two days. Changbin planned to start waking him up earlier to come work out so that they could get room _9_ and a bunch of new torturous machines.

Felix’s voice interrupted Jisung’s conflicted thoughts. “Hey, was that someone else? Is Minho with you?”

Jisung smiled, and he was sure Felix could hear it in his tone. “Yeah, that was like the first thing I told you, Lix.”

_“So you’re telling me, you’re working out with your crush?! Your model looking crush, who has the arms- scratch that, body of an-”_

Jisung was very glad he didn’t have Felix on speakerphone. “Lee Felix. Was there a point to this conversation?”

Felix snorted. _“Ooo touchie. So it’ll just be you and me? Wait! Ask Minho if he wants to come!”_

Jisung made eye contact with his boyfriend, and a smile slowly grew on his face. Minho couldn’t help but smile, even if he had no idea what was going on. “You know what, Lix. Hey, Minho, you wanna come and get lunch with me and Felix?”

Minho’s eyes lit up as he was finally enlightened to the situation, and he hummed in thought as though he really had to consider an opportunity to spend more time with Jisung and Felix. “Hmm… I’m gonna need more detail than that.”

Jisung realised that Minho did actually have a good point, and he felt dumb for not asking this already. “Uh, Lix? When is this lunch happening? Me and Minho are… not exactly cafe-ready right now.”

_“Put me on speakerphone, I’ll give all the details.”_

Jisung tapped the button and immediately regretted his decision. _“HEY MINHO!”_

Minho laughed. “Hey, Felix.”

_“Okay so you guys wanted the deets? Well, you got two hours to clean up… I’ll text y’all the location and just catch a cab, I guess.”_

Jisung’s eyes widened and he glanced down at his workout clothes, before he looked up at Minho for a read on whether he was happy with the amount of time to prepare. Minho looked unphased, shrugging. “Sounds good. I’m in.”

“ _Did you hear that, Sungie? Your future-”_

Jisung tapped the speakerphone off immediately, but Minho heard, eyes sparkling with amusement as he stood up. “Future...?”

Jisung sighed, knowing that his ears were bright red for the fiftieth time that day and there was really nothing he could do about it. “He knows I’ve been crushing on you. And he’s Felix, so that means… teasing.”

Minho grimaced knowingly. “I know the feeling. Maybe we need better friends. Hyunjin is going to tease me, even more, when he finds out you’re my boyfriend.”

Along with a heat in his stomach at the words from Minho’s mouth, an idea sparked in Jisung’s mind, which is never a good sign. He held his phone away from his face as he spoke, hoping Felix wouldn't be too suspicious about the long silence. “Wait, are we going to tell them straight away? That we’re… dating?”

Minho shrugged. “I’m okay whatever you choose to do.”

Han held the phone up to his face again, winking at Minho before speaking in a playful tone. “We’ll see you there, Felix.”

_“You’re not gonna scold me for embarrassing you? Or did Minho not-”_

“Minho heard. But he's well aware I like him.”

_“JISUNG YOU CONFESSED?! OH MY GOD HOW DARE YOU NOT TELL-”_

Jisung hung up with a smirk, and leaned against the cycle before looking at Minho. “Mission Revenge: Accomplished.”

Minho rolled his eyes, walking across the room to slip his water bottle into his duffle bag. His hair was ridiculously messy at this point, but of course, he was still beyond attractive. After a moment of silence Minho glanced up, swinging his near empty duffle bag over a shoulder. His face was so pretty, his nose perfectly straight and his eyelashes dark, that Jisung forgot how to speak. _Lee Minho was looking straight at him. This angel has kissed him before. HE HAD KISSED THIS ANGEL BEFORE._

Jisung was still struggling to comprehend these facts, and it didn’t appear that the world wanted to make it easier, because then Minho smiled. Jisung was moments away from melting into a pool of flustered rookie on the carpeted floor when his ears helpfully informed him that Minho was speaking.

“Ready to go scare Felix some more, Hannie?”

Jisung beamed in response, the nickname sparking something in him as he bounced forward onto his toes. He was ready. “Hell yeah, this is what I was born to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MINSUNG BOYFRIENDS SAHGFHJSH  
> *clears throat* i mean, ayo wassup  
> im back again with another plot heavy chapter, hope y'all enjoyed all the same, and hopefully we can get back to racing soon ;)  
> feel free to drop any questions in the comments and ill do my best to answer them,,, otherwise, hopefully ill be back again next week with an episode of Lunch with Felix (ft Minsung and a special guest appearance)  
> luv you <3
> 
> follow me on instagram for random content!! oh_cxnada


	20. Time For More Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix tried not to cringe at how flustered they both were. “As much as I love whatever stiff dating ritual you two are performing right now, maybe-”

The cafe was warm with afternoon sunlight, and although it was prime lunch hour, there wasn’t an outrageous roar of people, the few sitting inside providing Felix with calming chatter as background noise. He shifted in the intricate metal seat, his eyes fixed on his phone as he scrolled mindlessly through his feed.

The road outside was a different sight from the cafe, filled with cars going either direction, reds, silvers, and blacks racing each other to the next bend in the paved street. They, of course, weren’t travelling at the speeds of a formula one race down the public streets, but they were making enough obnoxious noise that Felix could have imagined they were. 

Just as the waitress set down his plate of exotic pastries, a familiar voice cut in over the pleasant noise of the cafe and the more distant but unpleasant noise of the street. 

Jisung’s voice would have been a welcomed sound if it hadn’t come from inches away from Felix’s ear. “Hey, Lix~”

Felix jumped, nearly dropping his phone into his food and letting out a yelp. Jisung cackled, stepping around Felix to sit down in the seat facing the doorway, probably where Felix should have been sitting the entire time. Minho shook his head as he sat down, but there was a smile on his lips that Felix could tell was a rare sight. “Gotcha. I believe that's 2:1 to me, right?”

Felix opened his mouth to protest but ended up exhaling with a pout. Jisung had earnt his point fair and square. “Yeah, fine. Hey, Minho.”

Minho nodded in greeting, the fond smile slipping to be replaced with a polite one. Normally, Felix would have been offended, but any sort of smile from the ice prince meant something special. 

If he hadn’t known the pair had come from an early morning workout, Felix would have assumed Minho had come from a modelling shoot. Both of them were far less tired than he would have been, dressed in light, flowy clothing appropriate for the late summer weather, but although he had grown used to Han’s above-average appearance, Minho’s was still a lot to take in.

Jisung’s laughing tapered off as his eyes set on the pastries in front of Felix and his mouth dropped open. “ _Woah_. What the heck, how am I going to choose?”

Minho watched amusedly as Jisung grabbed the menu in excitement, both of them unintentionally ignoring Felix. He shuffled his chair subtly closer to Jisung’s, which Felix made note of with a smile, before making eye contact and flushing. 

Felix picked up a pastry from the plate with a jam-filling. Before taking a bite, he spoke with a curious tone. “So… Jisung says you know about his fat crush?”

Minho raised his eyebrow. “Yes, and he knows about mine as well, I believe.”

Felix almost choked on his pastry. Jisung paused from stumbling over the foreign pastry names to smile at Minho, who had shyly placed an arm around the back of Jisung’s chair.

Swallowing, Felix got over his shock, remembering his analysis of Minho’s behaviour on the plane. “I _knew_ it. So _this_ is what you two were doing after I went to bed on the plane.”

Jisung faltered before laughing. “Yeah, sure. We were just… talking.”

Felix narrowed his eyes at Jisung’s sarcasm before the waiter who had served his meal waltzed back over to ask how they were doing. 

He spoke to Felix, who was the only one of the three who had actually studied basic French before coming to Monte Carlo. _“Sir, do your friends wish to order?”_

Felix nodded, before looking to Jisung. “Hey, what do you want?”

Jisung shrugged helplessly, discarding the menu Felix thought he had been studying. “I don’t know what any of this even _says._ ”

Felix then looked to Minho, who didn’t even look at the menu before shrugging the same as his friend (boyfriend? Felix doesn’t know) had moments before.

Shooting a glare in their direction, Felix exhaled sharply before turning back to the waiter with a strained smile. “How do I say… _they will_ … _uh, surprise?”_

The waiter’s eyes lit up with recognition and he smiled before looking up at Jisung and Minho. Jisung tried a polite smile in return, though they were both oblivious to what Felix had told the waiter. 

The man tapped his nose. “ _I have just the thing_.”

Felix didn’t need to speak French to understand the look on the waiter's face as he walked away. Happy he had made someone else happy, he turned back to find the other two had quickly moved on from putting him in the position of explaining their indecision and that Minho was laughing at Jisung’s imitation of Felix’s grateful face.

Felix groaned. “Jisung, I literally _just_ saved your ass from pretending you can speak another language, you should be thanking me.”

Jisung gasped in indignation. “Excuse me? I can speak tons of different languages! English… Korean-”

Felix snorted before glancing down at his plate and selecting his next victim. “Barely.”

Jisung opened his mouth to protest but ended up slumping back into his chair in defeat. He felt a warmth on the back of his chair and nearly jumped away making a noise of surprise. As he looked to Minho instinctively, he came to the realisation that the warmth was Minho’s arm. In conclusion, Minho’s arm was a warm caterpillar.

Minho was snapped from his trance at Jisung's noise of worry. "Are you okay?"

Jisung nodded, suddenly feeling incredibly stupid. He relaxed back into his seat properly this time, and Minho's arm shifted close to his shoulders. "Yeah, just a dumb thought."

Jisung didn’t think he had thought too much about the outfit he wore to the cafe, considering it was only Felix they were going to see, and Minho had already seen him while he was working out so he couldn’t dress any worse than Sweaty and Red Jisung. He ended up going with a loose-fitting floral button-down, in a soft pink; an unfamiliar colour in his wardrobe. But Changbin had gotten it for him in the confidence Jisung would wear it at some point, so Jisung had decided today would be the day to bless the world with this particular fit.

However, when he saw Minho, he immediately wondered if he should have gone even more dressy. After further observation, Minho’s black tie-dyed sweater and grey jeans combo was even more casual than his own outfit, only Minho managed to look like he had stepped directly out of a magazine no matter what he wore.

Now, the tie-dyed arm of the sweater was wrapped loosely around his shoulder and he was far from complaining. He subconsciously leaned back into the touch, hoping that it would help Minho feel more comfortable with his advance.

Minho hummed curiously as he considered Felix's comment on Jisung's knowledge of languages. “I thought you travelled all over the world for school? You didn’t have to learn any other languages?”

Jisung shook his head. “Nah, English was pretty universally accepted. I did do some language studies and stuff, but I don’t really remember most of it.”

Felix supplied helpfully. “Yeah, Jisung’s shit at remembering things.”

Jisung managed to not glare at Felix, instead of settling for the equally mature response of sticking his tongue out at him. Felix looked affronted and Jisung only stopped when Minho laughed and gently tapped his chin with his sweater paw. “Jisung, we’re in a contemporary cafe. I’m not sure if people will appreciate seeing the inside of your mouth.”

Felix snorted as Jisung shut his mouth and settled for his earlier response of glaring. “Yeah, Jisungie, listen to your boyfriend, he’s got some good brain cells.”

Before Jisung could flare up again, Minho narrowed his eyes at Felix. “Hey…”

Jisung smiled smugly as Minho leaped to his defence but would only be let down by the rest of the sentence. 

“I have a full _head_ of good brain cells, not just a few.”

Jisung shoved Minho’s arm away from him as the other two burst into laughter. He pouted, pushing his chair away from the table and sulking. “You two are the worst. Minho, I want to break up.”

Minho struggled to stop laughing, extending a hand across the gap that had grown between him and Jisung. “I’m sorry, Sung, come back. I promise I think you’re super smart.”

Jisung could only resist the laughter in Minho’s big, beautiful eyes for a few moments, but still put on a show of slowly dragging his chair back to the table. Felix hiccupped as he tried to calm his hysterics. 

The waiter stepped back up to their table as Jisung finally found his place again, and they really were lucky he hadn’t appeared moments earlier. “ _You two were the ones who wanted a surprise?”_

Felix nodded despite only partly understanding what he said, and Jisung and Minho just sat in silence, their cluelessness not capable of being any more obvious. The waiter smiled at Felix’s response and set a dish down on their table with four pastries topped with whipped cream and raspberries, before murmuring an accented _enjoy!_ and disappearing again. 

Jisung’s eyes widened significantly, and he immediately thanked the waiter multiple times. Felix didn’t have the heart to say that the man had already disappeared, and he wasn’t sure whether Jisung would have been able to hear anyways, too busy marvelling the pastries.

Minho was the first to reach for one, and that seemed to break Jisung from his trance. He slipped a pastry carefully from the plate and addressed Minho with alarming sincerity considering the context. “Let me feed you.”

Minho made a surprised noise, but nodded hurriedly, his turn to have wide eyes as Jisung guided the pastry to his mouth. Felix tried not to cringe at how flustered they both were. “As much as I love whatever stiff dating ritual you two are performing right now, maybe-”

Jisung’s brain and hand malfunctioned when he remembered Felix was sitting right across from them. He shoved the pastry into Minho’s mouth before realising what he was doing and apologised repetitively. "OH MY GOD I'M SORRY."

Minho nearly choked on the food as it was pushed into his mouth, but he managed to save himself, extracting the pastry from his mouth so that he could wheeze. "I-it's okay, I'm fine."

Felix lost it as Jisung groaned and collapsed onto the table beyond embarrassed. "J-Jisung, that was terrible- oh my god, I'm _crying_."

Minho, despite his ears being red, began laughing as well. Jisung didn't want to raise his head, his face burning. "I'm so sorry, why did I _do_ that?"

Understanding how Jisung must have been feeling, Minho used his un-pastry-filled hand to rub Jisung's back. Felix shook his head, trying to fit words out between his laughter. "Jisung, if you want Minho to take you on a date you're going to need to get better at this."

Jisung whined. "Shut _up_ Lee Felix, you're no better than I am."

Saying this reminded Jisung of some of the embarrassing stories Felix had told him about his own dates, and he raised his head, suddenly less flustered. Felix quickly recognised the sparkle in Jisung's eyes and before his twin could start, he spoke hurriedly. “Isn’t the weather nice today? Perfect racing weather, yeah?”

. . .

The trio sat in the cafe for a long time after the initial conflicts wore out and the pastries settled in their stomachs. 

Felix had already been enlightened by Changbin about him and his new boyfriend (“Ugh, everyone’s getting into relationships at the moment!”) causing Jisung to make a comment about how Felix was Changbin’s favourite of the twins. Felix and Minho both argued this but Jisung was kidding; he knew how much Changbin sacrificed for him.

They talked about how much they missed the track, Minho even going as far as to state he would _die_ if he didn’t tear up the tar soon. Jisung reassured them that the American Formula One Organisation had booked them in for training on Thursday mornings, which meant it wouldn’t be long until they met up again to practice for the Polesitters that would come in a few weeks.

Jisung had just started raving about all of the fantastic cars he’d seen on the drive there, with Felix skeptical and Minho watching his boyfriend fondly when Minho’s phone rang. “Isn’t it just great? I swear half of these cars are worth more than my name!”

Felix tilted his head, casting his faded, peachy hair onto his forehead. “Yeah, but they’re _really_ loud though.”

Jisung spluttered. “That’s the _point_ , Felix!”

_Ring, ring, ring-_

Minho slid his arm away from Jisung’s shoulders to check his phone, sitting up to pull it from his back pocket. Jisung tried not to be nosy, looking away from the screen as Minho checked. Felix, however, leaned over the table. “Hyunjin? Isn’t he your cool friend?”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “If you mean the one who willingly shared all of my other friend's secrets with me and consequently you guys, then, yes. Uh, can I take this? It might be important.”

Jisung nodded. “Absolutely. Do you want to go outside…?”

Minho glanced outside, where the sources of the aforementioned noise were ever-present, before shaking his head. “Nah, it's just Hyunjin. He’ll probably be curious about you two anyways.”

Minho had apparently taken too long to answer his phone because as he went to swipe to answer, the calling icon disappeared. Seconds later, it reappeared, only this time it was a video call. Minho groaned, before answering. _Hwang Hyunjin always had a way with timing._

Hyunjin’s face filled the screen immediately, and despite the less than ideal angle he was holding his phone at, he still managed to look just as pretty as usual. He grinned at the sight of Minho. “ _Hey, Know, how’s it going- hey where are you? Some fancy cafe?”_

Minho held the phone awkwardly away from his face, earning a snicker from Felix who was promptly quietened by a _shush_ from Jisung. “Hey, loser. Uh, yeah, getting pastry for lunch.”

Hyunjin’s mole was incredibly close to the lense as he rolled over into a more comfortable position, now holding the phone above him, his pale brown hair spread out on his pillow. “ _Wow, our time zones have gotta be really different then. Jet lag hit yet?”_

Minho shook his head, but he felt tired just hearing the two dreaded words. Jisung and Felix had broken back into light chatter, though clearly trying their best not to interfere with Minho’s call despite every instinct they had telling them to do otherwise. “No, not yet, but it’s probably not far off. I had performance training and stuff this morning as well, but that wasn’t that bad.”

Hyunjin looked like he was in deep pain, clutching a hand to his chest. “ _Jesus, Know, are they trying to kill you?! How was that not torturous?”_

Minho grinned at that. “I got a boyfriend out of it. And he’s literally the best person I’ve ever met.”

Jisung twisted immediately at the words coming out of Minho’s mouth, a smile growing on his face. He knew he wasn’t in the frame where he currently was, and considering the way Minho glanced mischievously at him, he knew it was time to surprise another friend. Felix didn’t bother trying to interpret the non-verbal exchange, settling for taking another bite of his pastry and watching the show. 

Hyunjin laughed loudly in disbelief, and Minho would have felt a little wounded by his best friend's doubt if it weren’t Jisung’s head leaning on his shoulder. Hyunjin’s laughing stopped when the monster rookie appeared, his eyes instead widening in shock.

Jisung hooked his chin over Minho’s warm shoulder. “You mentioned me? Ah, so _this_ is Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin stumbled over his words, meaning it was Minho’s turn to be amused. “ _Oh my god- uh hi! Monste- Han Jisung! Yeah, I’m Hyunjin! You’re Minho’s boyfriend?”_

Jisung grinned. “Yeah, that’s me. It’s nice to meet you!”

Minho reached tentatively to tickle Jisung’s chin, causing the younger to withdraw hurriedly before realising the gesture wasn’t with ill-intent like it was from Changbin. He smiled at Minho before setting his head back down and listening to Minho speak. “I’m sure you two can meet properly when we get back to America. Oh, Felix is here too.”

As Minho turned the phone, Felix gasped in offense. “Excuse me!? I was the one who invited you two out here, and now I’m demoted to an ‘oh this guy’s here as well’? Sorry about that, hi Hyunjin!”

Minho didn’t have to have the phone facing him to envision Hyunjin spluttering. Hyunjin, despite not being involved in the Formula One industry, paid far more to the leaderboards, racers, and numbers than Minho does these days. Before the crash, Minho cared far more about those details, but now he avoided statistics unless Seungmin was explaining something to him, as they tended to make his fall from grace all the more vivid.

Because Hyunjin kept up to date with all the latest racers, he was most likely shocked to his very core that Minho was sitting with two of the most controversial and talented young racers in America and was treating the entire exchange so casually. 

“ _H-hello. I hope, uh, I hope Minho has only told you good things about me, I’m like, a big fan of both of you. Uh, Minho?”_

Minho had a smug smile on his face when he turned the phone camera back to face him and Jisung, proud of himself. It was very difficult to catch Hwang Hyunjin off guard, and he had finally managed it. “Yeah, Jinnie?”

_“We’re gonna have a LONG talk later, yeah?”_

“Of course, bestie, anything for you.”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, apparently having forgotten that Jisung was watching from Minho’s shoulder. The racer giggled and Hyunjin licked his lips. “ _Anyway, I’ll let you get back to lunch, call you back at a better time. Uh, it was really cool meeting you guys!”_

Jisung’s eyes squeezed up with his smile “You too, Hyunjin.”

Felix raised his voice so he could be heard through the mouthful of pastry. “See yah later, Hyunjin!”

As Hyunjin hung up, another phone began to ring. All three of the racers glanced at each other as they tried to remember their respective ringtones. Felix took a moment to deduce it was, in fact, his phone ringing and he apologised to Minho and Jisung, informing them that he couldn’t stay any longer.

"It was great hanging with you guys! Oh! Here's some cash for the bill." Felix hurriedly pulled out a handful of notes from his pocket and placed them on the table, before waltzing away. Jisung waved as Felix blew a kiss their way before stepping out onto the streets of Monte Carlo to make his call.

It appeared that despite the fact Felix had been very obviously third-wheeling the entire time, that his departure had reminded Jisung that it was about time he headed back as well. He sighed, and Minho sensed Jisung’s change in mood, slipping his arm away from his shoulders and offering a frown. “You okay, Jisung?”

Jisung’s smile was weary, a by-product of the sudden wave of tiredness washing over his body, but he was still happy. He grabbed the hand Minho had pulled away from his shoulders and watched it as he slid his fingers through it. Minho’s hands weren’t much bigger than Felix’s but were more delicate and soft. That was, if you ignored the prominent veins and clear muscle in his lower arm. Jisung ran a thumb over them as he spoke. “Yeah, I’m fine, just tired. Changbin’s meeting is probably ending soon, and I wanted to get him a drink when he gets back. He’s definitely tired too.”

Minho missed the first part of what Jisung said, too busy studying the younger’s actions with a stuttering heart, but he managed to catch back up as Jisung finished. This was something he admired about Jisung; he cared so much about his friends and the people around him that it was like instinct. Changbin, Felix, Chris. Minho loved Hyunjin, Jeongin, and Seungmin, and he was sure they knew that, but it was never his thing to outright state it. He admired Jisung for that ability. 

Squeezing Jisung’s hand a little as Han’s warm fingers ran over a sensitive patch of skin, Minho cleared his throat. This whole _being able to touch_ thing is going to take some getting used to. “Well, do you want to get that now? I can call a cab.”

Jisung looked up at him, and at that moment, Minho felt like he and Jisung were completely alone in the quiet, sunlit cafe, the yellow walls, and transparent storefront built just for them. “Thank you, Minho.”

Minho withdrew his hand to tentatively raise it to Jisung’s face before hurriedly standing. His heart was beating unnaturally fast. “Uh, no problem, Hannie. I’ll go and… do that, and you get Changbin his drink, yeah?”

Jisung felt flustered by the soft press of Minho’s fingers to his cheek and raised his own hand to brush over the spot as Minho stood, straightening his sweater before shifting to the doorway of the store to make the phone call. It took a moment for Minho’s words to settle in, but when they did, Jisung picked up the remaining part of his pastry and shoved it into his mouth, hoping he would have finished chewing it by the time he reached the counter.

. . .

The sun was lower in the sky by the time the flustered idiots got back to the hotel, a result of the driver having missed the side road the first time through. It didn’t take long to loop back around, but Jisung’s eyelids were heavy when they pulled up next to the humble entranceway.

Minho yawned into his arm before he paid the driver with a few of the notes that Seungmin had left on his pillow, thanking him in English before climbing haphazardly onto the sidewalk. He held the door open for Jisung to slide out as well. The younger’s flattering pink top was more unbuttoned than Jisung had remembered, and as he stepped onto the pavement with wobbly legs, he tugged the fabric back up to sit around his neck. Minho slipped his hands into his pockets as the cab pulled away, smiling fondly as Jisung stretched his back.

The younger clutched the still-warm coffee to his chest as he stretched, sure not to spill what could potentially be Changbin’s saviour. When Jisung opened his eyes, he absorbed the sight of Lee Minho in front of him before reluctantly bidding him farewell. “I’m sorry to say that this is where we part, my dear. Thank you for… thank you for saying yes to me. I like you. A lot.”

Minho brushed a hand to the back of his neck, his dark hair shifting to accommodate the light breeze. His dark hair hung slightly in his eyes, long enough to obscure his vision but damn, did he look good. Jisung wanted to kiss every inch of his face, but he knew they weren’t at that level yet and they weren’t exactly in the ideal place to be displaying such affection. 

Minho’s lips were almost as perfectly even as the rest of his unfairly pretty face and they moved around his words. His face held an expression of distance, as though he was replaying something in his mind. Jisung knew how he felt. “Of course I said yes. I can’t believe… I can’t believe _you_ like _me_.”

Jisung grinned and despite his aching limbs, he waltzed up to Minho and pressed a light, barely-there kiss to his perfectly even lips. “Better get used to it.”

As he pulled back, Jisung winked and skipped towards the hotel entrance, leaving Minho standing on the footpath, still processing the event that just took place. Jisung was glad he wasn’t the only one surprised by his bold actions.

Minho managed to blink himself back to reality just as Jisung disappeared through the doors, and he shook his head, a smile on his face as he turned to take the same path, his hands still in the pockets of his jeans. Jisung had caught him off-guard this time, but next time he would be sure to return the affection. God knows he’d love to.

Jisung ascended the carpeted stairs with the coffee clutched in his hand, his eyes on his feet as he stepped out a rhythm. He felt like he was flying, high on the feeling of being in a foreign city, high on the lingering pressure of Minho’s lips. 

When he reached the top of the stairs, Jisung stepped down the lilac hallway towards the door of he and Changbin’s shared room. He was looking forward to telling Changbin all that had happened that day, from his crush accepting his proposal to the meeting with Felix. As he grew closer, he overheard Changbin talking hurriedly to someone on the phone. 

“Okay, yeah. I can pencil that in. Yup. Thank you for your time.”

The older exhaled shakily after he hung up his phone, and through the gap in the doorway, Jisung could see Changbin’s broad shoulders shake as he hung up. 

It was sudden, the way Jisung was quickly grounded by a sense of guilt and worry, tugged down from where he had floated in the clouds. While he had been out getting lunch and messing around with his friends, Changbin had been non-stop working, all to do his job as Jisung’s manager. Jisung hadn’t even called to check in, nor ask how he was doing over the course of the day.

Changbin wasn’t facing the doorway, but Jisung could picture the weary expression on his face as he rubbed it with a hand, disposing of his phone with the other.

Jisung entered cautiously, pushing the door open with his free hand. “Bin?”

Changbin froze, still hunched over with his hand on his face. He cleared his throat, before turning to face Jisung. His face was just as tired as Jisung had pictured, his eyes droopy and lips downturned. He made a visible effort to brighten his aura. “Hey, Sung. Did you enjoy lunch?”

Jisung nodded, offering what he hoped was a comforting smile. “Yeah, it was nice. I got this coffee for you.”

Changbin smiled softly, accepting the dark drink and placing it on the window sill next to his bed. “Thanks, Jisung.”

Jisung sat down on the bed next to Changbin, knowing that if he didn’t mention it now, Changbin would probably just continue to pretend he was fine. “Are… are you feeling okay, hyung?”

Changbin’s smile faltered at the use of Korean honorifics, something Han _never_ used despite the fact Changbin had reprimanded him many times when they first met. He felt pressure in his throat and prickling behind his eyes, this time not caused by lack of sleep. “W-what do you mean?”

Jisung bit his lip, not knowing what to do. So he pulled Changbin into a hug, tucking Changbin’s head into his shoulder, hoping that the linen dress shirt would cushion his collarbones even just a little. He rubbed circles on Changbin’s back, the way Chan did when he was upset. 

Instead of pulling away, Changbin left his face buried in Jisung’s lean shoulder so he could let out the tears that had been building since they left Houston yesterday. He reached out his own arms and wrapped them around Jisung, who was perfectly happy providing physical comfort. Ironically, it was the words of consolation Jisung struggled with, despite them normally being his specialty.

It took only a few minutes for Changbin’s body to stop shaking, his breathing evening out to match Jisung’s. He sat up slowly and wiped the moisture from his face that hadn’t soaked into the linen shirt before meeting Jisung’s worried eyes. “I’m sorry, Ji. I...”

Jisung shook his head, his hands moving from Changbin’s back to the older’s shoulders. “You don’t have to apologise for being upset, Bin.”

Changbin sucked in a breath, holding his friend's gaze. “M’ scaring you though.”

Jisung laughed nervously. “Everything scares me, Binnie.”

Changbin’s tired face shifted at that, a small smile on his lips. His voice was soft, still rough from crying but quiet. Comfortable. “You’re braver than you think, Jisungie.”

Choosing not to argue, Jisung released Changbin’s shoulders and wrapped him into another hug. Changbin complied, rewrapping his arms around Jisung’s torso before answering the question that had been left to sit in the air. 

“It’s okay. I’m okay. It is just a little too much for me. The flights, then the early wake-up, and I pushed myself a bit too far this morning. And the conference was… tedious. I’m okay now though.”

Jisung pulled back, hoping he didn’t look as fragile as he felt. It wasn’t often that Changbin let himself break down, but it always scared Jisung. It was almost like watching your parents cry, but also Jisung refuses to use that metaphor because Seo Changbin is _far_ from being his parent. 

The atmosphere felt a little lighter as Changbin stretched his back, wincing when it cracked loudly. “Geez, I really did overdo it. Maybe the only reason you didn’t beat me during presses was that you were being more responsible with your body.”

Jisung laughed weakly. “I wish. I was _dying_.”

Changbin snorted, turning to grab his coffee from the window sill. As he did so, the lowering sun was blocked by his dark hair, and Jisung remembered that it was going to get cold that evening. He glanced over his shoulder at his own queen bed, the one closer to the warmth of the centre of the hotel to see it had been made in his time out. Turning his attention back to Changbin, he found his friend seemed just as content with the silence as he was with Jisung’s attempts at condolence.

Changbin took a sip of the coffee, his gaze settling on the buildings out of his window as he exhaled slowly. Jisung followed it, watching as a plane flew overhead, a black spot against the blue sky and yellowing clouds. The sky was falling asleep, but the city was still taking new arrivals, most likely even new racers. Jisung’s tired body felt excited at the prospect of the upcoming competition, even though it was definitely becoming numb from exertion.

It was when he heard the shower start from a few doors down that Jisung was snapped back to the present, realising he was still seated on Changbin’s bed. He straightened, rocking his weight forward onto his combat boots. Changbin swallowed another mouthful before following Jisung across the room with his eyes. “So, lunch was good?”

Jisung paused from where he leant down to untie his shoes, contemplating whether to inform Changbin about he and Minho’s newly formed relationship. Deciding it sounded as though Changbin had been through enough for one day, Jisung settled for smiling mysteriously. “Yeah, it was cool. Minho’s friend called when we were finishing up, and he was a fan of me and Felix so…”

The rest of the late afternoon was spent in the cream coloured hotel room, recounting their days to unwind and then moving on to ridiculing the choices of modern art they’d seen throughout the hotel. Changbin was reading Jisung his latest lyric ideas, ones he had scrawled down into his notepad over the past few weeks when Jisung began to fall asleep, his hand between his head and the pillow and his drooping eyes on Changbin. 

Changbin hummed, a contemplative frown on his face. “I don’t know, maybe they’re too cheesy. I’ve been feeling pretty cheesy lately though, with Min- Seungmin and everything. Hey- are you passing out on me, Han?”

Jisung mumbled sleepily, his eyes already shut. His dark hair had fallen into his eyes but he didn’t have the energy to move it. “Maybe.”

Changbin chuckled, leaning over the gap between their beds to pat Jisung’s cheek lightly. “Sweet dreams, squirrel.”

Jisung protested. “M’ not… a sqrrl.”

“Uh-huh, of course not.”

Too close to sleep to pick up on the sarcasm, Jisung smiled in triumph. He pulled the throw from the end of his bed over his torso as he slurred. “Night, Binnie.”

“Night, Sungie.” Changbin smiled, placing his notebook on the table between their headboards and getting up to get changed himself. It appeared neither of them were in the need for dinner that evening, and there was always a mini fridge they could raid if they got hungry.

The sun was setting as Changbin crawled into his own bed, every part of his part tired and achy. But he was happy now, and that was what counted. Tomorrow was a new day, and both he and Jisung would be rested and ready for whatever was thrown their way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)  
> s o f t  
> this chapter was meant to be 2000 words but as usual it spiralled out of control,,,, but i think in this case that's okay. i certainly think this chapter flows better than the last two, and the changbin and jisung scene KILLS me,, i love dem  
> hope you guys enjoyed the chapter!! ill see you guys again soon <3
> 
> \-------  
> come join the party on Instagram, where you can enjoy luxuries such as me asking random questions, you asking ME random questions and all in all a good interactive time : oh_cxnada


	21. The First in A Grand Prix of Speed Bumps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jisung laughed, his judgement clouded with excitement. “Well, I hope so. It’d be kinda weird if I somehow forced him into being my boyfriend… I mean, how would I have even-”
> 
> “What?”
> 
> Faltering, Jisung’s eyes widened. Oh. He hasn’t told Changbin yet.

**bffie**

_my luv you can only ignore hwang hyunjin for so long_

_minhoooo_

_ill start thirsting after your boyfriend if you don’t talk to me_

_i want to know about monte carlo_

_LEE KNOW_

_han jisung is that hottest bitch i swear_

_have you SEEN that waist_

**me**

_what do you want_

**bffie**

_omg hiiiiiiiii_

_read the FIFTY messages i’ve left you since our little chat about your boyfie the other day_

**me**

_…_

_im doing good_

_heading to the track tomorrow_

**bffie**

_that’s it???? that’s all i get??_

_maybe ill have to come to monte carlo to find out what all the hype about_

  
  


**me**

_i can find some money for flights if you actually want to come_

_im sure i have some somewhere_

_Probably_

**bffie**

_no!_

_i mean nah, don’t worry about it_

_im content if you ANSWER MY DAMN MESSAGES_

**me**

_fine, ill check them more often_

_so monte carlo is..._

_uh_

_the city is pretty?_

_there are lots of_

_cars_

_and stuff_

_tbh i haven’t really been that many places I just kind hang out with hannie_

_*jisung_

**bffie**

_skjdsakjfa you two are so cute_

_once i get over my shocked phase, ill ship it for sure_

**me**

_?_

_actually don’t tell me what that means im too scared_

**bffie**

_okay, whatever you say bffie_

_oh!_

_i didn’t put this in my spam but mum says to say hi_

_she also said ‘tell him not to hurt himself or ill come and ******************’_

**me**

_im presuming it was graphic violence?_

**bffie**

_yup you know her so well_

_that was when she came to lunch on sunday_

_we missed having you there :( we have to have a good catch up when you get back_

**me**

_of course_

_miss you too, jinnie_

**bffie**

_AWWWWWWW_

_don’t make me cri :((((((((((_

**me**

_Loser_

**bffie**

HEY

_just because im a sensitive guy smh_

_whatever, enough about you_

_ya wanna know about what jinsoul did to vivi in the studio the other day?_

**me**

_sure_

_this better be juicy >:0 _

**bffie**

_of course!! you even know me, Lee Minho??_

**me**

_unfortunately_

**bffie**

_;)_

. . .

It was four days after lunch with Felix by the time the racers finally got to practice what they did best; racing. The American Formula One Organisation had only managed to book the custom circuit once a week, which meant that leading up to polesitters, the prestiged American team only got one trial run. After that, it was straight back into it.

Changbin had called for a chauffeur and woken Han a little earlier than necessary, knowing the younger would appreciate getting to the track before everyone else so that they could analyse the set up in focused quiet. This was how Changbin had ended up in a Mercedes-Benz next to a hyper Jisung at 6 o’clock in the morning.

When Jisung ducked his head back inside the window, Changbin was greeted by the sight of Jisung’s once tidy dark hair in disarray, and the younger’s eyes wide with excitement. “It feels like its been _years_ since my last track, Bin. Ugh, I can’t _wait_.”

Changbin turned off his phone, smiling at the younger’s overflow of energy. “It’s only been two weeks since the finals in Texas, Jisung.”

Jisung slumped back into his seat dramatically, his racing jacket rustling as he raced a palm to his forehead. “Two weeks, two years, it’s all the same when I’m not in my car.”

Rolling his eyes, Changbin leaned over Jisung to wind up to the window of the expensive car, as although Jisung wasn’t bothered with the wind now cycling viciously through the car, Changbin would prefer if his hair stayed as it was. Jisung dodged Changbin at first, thinking his friend was reaching for him, but went back to vibrating with anticipation when he figured he was safe. 

As Changbin sat back, he sent a curious glance Jisung’s way. “How much coffee did you drink this morning, Han?”

Jisung shook his head, his smile never fading. Changbin would have found it endearing if it was anyone but Jisung. “None. I haven’t had any since Minho brought some in for me after performance training yesterday. And before then, it was at the end of last week with Lix and Minho. You know, first day?”

Changbin hummed as he absorbed Han’s words, and although he had begun noticing it throughout the week, it was becoming obvious how often Minho was with Jisung. Considering the younger seemed to be growing quite attached to Minho(whether he also had a crush or considered Minho a potential close friend, Changbin wasn’t sure), Changbin tried his best to approach the topic gently. 

He rubbed the back of his neck, studying Jisung’s body language as he tried to make his concern appear as a casual comment. “Yeah, I remember. Hey, uh, I’ve noticed Know’s been going out of his way for you a lot recently… do you think he’s into you or something?”

Jisung laughed, his judgement clouded with excitement. “Well, I _hope_ so. It’d be kinda weird if I somehow forced him into being my boyfriend… I mean, how would I have even-”

“What?”

Faltering, Jisung’s eyes widened. _Oh. He hasn’t told Changbin yet._

His friend was looking at him with an expression of shock and disbelief, and not the happy kind. Changbin’s brow slowly pulled into a frown, all amusement and gentle intrigue disappearing entirely. “You’re dating? Another racer? Without even- without even telling me?”

Changbin’s gut turned as Jisung’s face closed off, his defenses flying up. He hated that he was the one causing this, but he felt as though he had been blocked out already. Jisung having a relationship with someone unfamiliar, and that unfamiliar person having direct influence over the career that is Jisung’s passion. The one that contained his dream, one that is coming to life as they speak.

Changbin doesn’t know what he would do if someone tried to take that away from Jisung, and although there is a small part of him telling him that Minho is trustworthy, Changbin’s rationality is telling him that he doesn’t know that. He has to protect Jisung. 

Jisung felt himself shrink slightly under Changbin’s gaze. He had a right to be mad at Jisung. “I… I was going to. But Minho isn’t just another racer, you know-”

Changbin sucked in a breath, and Jisung felt his heart clench as his friend slumped back into his seat, running a hand through his dark hair as he tried to cool his anger. “I _don’t_ know that, actually. I hardly know him at all. Do _you_ even know him? Can you trust that he isn’t just doing this to throw you off before finals?”

That comment riled Jisung up, as though Changbin had spat in his face. What was wrong with Changbin? Why was he acting like this? “What the fuck?! Where is this coming from? You were fine with me hanging out with him before, and now that he’s my boyfriend he’s also a dangerous snake? We’re on the same _team_ for god’s sake!”

Changbin grit his teeth, refusing to make eye contact, although by this point Jisung had swivelled in his seat, straining against his belt so that he could speak directly to Changbin. “Look, I’m not trying to upset you, Jisung, but… fuck, I wish you had told me about this earlier.”

Jisung wanted to bite his tongue, but now that Changbin had roused all these very real issues, he couldn’t stop. “I _wanted_ to but I forgot, okay? I didn’t realise my love life mattered so much I-”

“Do you love him?”

Faltering again, Jisung found himself struggling for words. He _hated_ this.He hated how he always ended up arguing with the people he cared about most so much more often than he did with his other friends. “I- well, I- you-”

Changbin whispered again, but firmer this time. “Do you _love him_?”

Jisung sank back into the leather seat, the fight escaping him. He tried to understand where Changbin was going with this, but he failed, ultimately conceding. “I could. I could love him.”

_I could love him._

Changbin softened at the sight of Jisung deflating. He extended a hand cautiously, which Jisung knocked away. 

“I’m sorry, Jisung, I just,” he sighed, trying to explain his outburst without making it worse, “it’s just… strange timing. I was okay with him being friends, because you’re, well, you’re you. You naturally make people want to be around you. But if he knew that you had other feelings for him… I know it’s harder to hear your instincts when you’re in love. And he might be taking advantage of that.”

Jisung bit his lip, refusing to look up. _It’s scary how much sense Changbin is making._ “He’s… he’s not like that. I know that’s what everyone says, but he _knows_ we’re all on the same team. Minho’s… he’s a fair racer and a great person. He wouldn’t _manipulate_ me to win. He wouldn’t.”

Changbin sighed, running a hand through his hair for a second time. So much for leaving it untouched. Jisung looked up at him slowly, his own eyes apologetic as well. Changbin tried to speak again, doing his best to get out his thoughts. “I’m not trying to make you second-guess your relationship, Sung, and I trust your judgement. Just… just be careful, okay?”

Jisung’s fingers twitched in his lap, so used to having somebody to hold on to when he was unsure. Croaking, he managed a few sentences. “I will. I-I can talk to Minho, about us. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind pausing this until after the finals or something. That would tell me whether I’m… whether I’m actually what he wants.”

Changbin reached out again, and Jisung held his hand with a little too much force. “I’m sorry for freaking out on you. It just surprised me. Minho does seem like a good guy, Sung. I want this all to work out, I want _you_ to be able to be with that person you love, it’s just…”

Jisung finished with a weak smile. “Bad timing?”

“Yeah.”

Trying to lighten the atmosphere, Jisung cracked a joke. “Well, that’s a first for a record time setter like me.”

Changbin didn’t laugh, but he managed a faint smile, giving Jisung’s hand a squeeze before their chauffeur cleared her throat.

Jisung’s blood ran cold when he remembered that they weren’t alone in the car. _How much did she hear? Oh god, what if she tells someone about me and Minho? What-_

The Mercedes came to a stop outside the glass-fronted racing centre, the building more transparent than Han’s nerves. She turned and flashed a comforting smile. “We’re here.”

Changbin, apparently only just having picked up on Jisung’s line of thought, froze from unbuckling his belt. His face hardened as he turned to the driver. Changbin could be really scary when he wanted to be. “How much did you hear?”

The woman blinked before glancing away sheepishly. “All of it.” She then turned back, making solid eye-contact with Changbin. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”

Jisung nearly let out a cry of relief, but settled before a wheezy laugh. “Thank you so much.”

Changbin wasn’t so quick to trust her. “You work for the AFO team, right?”

She nodded slowly.

“Then I’m sure you are aware of the potential consequences of dating rumors before a massive competition could do to America’s best canditate’s mental health and how that could affect AFO’s reputation, correct? I’m trusting you’ll make the right move.”

The fear on her face was genuine, and she shook her head vigorously. “I won’t speak a word, I swear.”

Changbin continued to glare at her as he gestured for Jisung to get out. “Okay. Thank you for the ride.”

As they approached the entrance, Jisung felt five times less excited to head down to the track than he had been before. Instead, he couldn’t seem to swallow the lump in his throat, the ball of nerves trying to escape his body in any way it could, even if it meant taking the contents of his stomach with it.

Changbin walked a few steps ahead of him so that he reached the enormous glass doors first. He leaned in to open it for Jisung, turning back to study the younger with a distant expression, lost in thought. Jisung murmured a thanks before entering the quiet foyer. 

The woman at the main desk seemed oblivious to the tenser atmosphere, flashing them both a brilliant, toothy smile as they approached. “Hello! You are American racer, yes? Han Jisung?”

Jisung forced a smile, straightening his back. His mood may not be good, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try and look on the bright side. “Hey! Yes, thats me. Is everyone else already here?”

The woman paused for a couple seconds as she mentally translated Jisung’s statement. Changbin didn’t even look up as he pulled out the booking information from the pocket of his trackpants and scanned it through. “No, you are the first one. Early. I just… I’ve seen you on-”

She signed out a television screen, causing Jisung to smile for real that time. “Ah yes, on TV. What’s your name?”

Changbin offered the booking consent papers without a smile and the woman turned her attention away from Jisung for a moment to take them. As she stamped the date on the sheet and she spoke with a shy smile. “My name is Chloe.”

Jisung offered a hand to shake and she took it. “Well, its nice to meet you, Chloe. I hope you’re on my side for championships?”

She flushed in embarrassment as Changbin took back the papers, clearly ready for him and Jisung to get moving. “My… my favourite is Raphael. He is- top for Monaco.”

Jisung nodded, recognising the name. Before he had the chance to make another statement, Changbin was calling him from exit, the one that Jisung presumed would lead down to the tracks and his team.

“Han, let’s go.”

He smiled sheepishly at Chloe. “Well, thank you for the talk, Chloe. Have a good day!”

Jisung felt better when he caught up to Changbin, who was still lost in thought. Han didn’t blame him; Changbin appeared to have done much more thinking than he had. But fortunately for Jisung, he had the opportunity to let out his frustrations on the track. Hopefully he would be able to fit a few laps in before the others arrived, because that was when he would have to discuss the unavoidable. 

Jisung may not yet be completely and utterly in love with Lee Minho, as it _has_ only been three weeks since he met him in person, but there was so much about him that Jisung was beginning to fall for. It really would be only a matter of time, and Changbin was right that this time may not be right. But the thing is, Jisung doesn’t know if he has it in him to ever say no to Minho. 

Maybe he’s in deeper than he thought.

. . . 

Minho’s newest silver bodysuit felt far more tight than his older one, as though it was compressing his muscles. He supposed that it was probably for a good reason, but he didn’t appreciate the fact that it limited his ability to move. 

He stepped stiffly down the stairs to the trackside tent, where Seungmin and his team were waiting, though not setting up as Minho thought they would be. 

The sound of a car was clear, even as long as this green track was, and as Minho stuck his head in through the flap, he quickly figured out that it was that car that had drawn the attention. Or at least, it was that car that had drawn his team’s attention. Seungmin’s was fixated on his phone, a smile on his face.

Minho glanced around the front of the tent to where his car was sitting, begging to be started and taken for a lap. Minho wasn’t sure whether he would have lasted another week away from the track.

Over the five years he had raced, it had become a part of him, apart of his lifestyle. Although he didn’t always have the fondest memories with competitions and racing in general, he could hardly say his passion had tired. It was just infamous his unwavering demeanour that had taken a knock after the crash, and that was something he hadn’t managed to regain immediately. But his year in a slump had been broken by none other than his greatest competition, the competitive side of him overriding his rationality and fears. 

He really ought to tell Jisung that their stupid argument was more than just their first verbal interaction; it made him so annoyed that he managed to stay in top 3. It’s kinda stupid, but Minho reckoned that if you thought about it enough, it was poetic. Kind of.

It was as he was approaching Seungmin near the front of his tent to ask why no one’s moving that the sound of a powerful and no doubt expensive engine grew closer at an alarming place. Minho looked up just in time to see a streak of red shoot passed the front of their tent. Han Jisung.

The two mechanics who had front row seats to the exchange down by the barrier both stumbled back in awe, before cracking up. “Holy shit dude! The speed on that thing is mental. I mean, he’s gotta be _loaded_ to get a car like that so early on in his career. How many wins did you say he had again?”

Minho shook his head, a wry smile on his face as he tapped Seungmin. His manager startled, nearly dropping his phone and his glasses at the same time. “Holy- Minho, we’ve talked about sneaking up on people.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “You get scared by me tapping you but you don’t even flinch at the 134 decibels of noise tearing up the track right in front of you?”

Seungmin shrugged as he shut off his phone to get everyone back on track. “What can I say, I went deaf a long time ago. How’re you feeling, Know?”

Minho glanced out at the segment of track visible from the tent, wondering what other curves and challenges this unfamiliar territory will hold. Jisung got a head start on getting a handle on his surroundings, and Minho was sure that Felix and Jordan would be here soon, but for the meantime he’s perfectly capable of catching up. “I’m ready to go. How about you?”

Seungmin smiled. “Give me five minutes.”

Seungmin, did, in fact, hold tight to his promise, as within five minutes, Minho was lined up and ready to go. Jisung’s fiery red car ducked into the pits just as he started up, and Minho almost stopped his car to get out and talk to him. He had missed his boyfriend, even if it had only been a day.

“ _Okay, Know, take off is in 5, 4, 3-”_

Minho was out of the pits before Seungmin finished, smiling as the pressure built around him. “Too slow, Min.”

“ _You’re just a rebel. Woah, knock down the speed, Know. I know you’ve got a boy to impress but we don’t want you hurting yourself in the process._ ”

Minho’s eyes flicked back and forth on the unbroken tar in front of him, taking in the industrial settings of the bending track around him. Even the tire-barriers looked fancier than in America. “Ha ha, like you aren’t trying to impress a boy as well. Hye said she would come and murder me if I hurt myself, so I’ll ease off.”

“ _Ah yes, Hyunjin’s mum. Huh- oh okay. The team says I need to stop distracting you. This is why I’m not a race engineer._ ”

Minho smiled, comfortable enough at the speed he was going that he didn’t ease off too much around the corner. “Yeah, they’re probably right. It’s really nice to have you on the other end though, Min.”

“ _Aw, love you too, Know. Now familiarise the fuck out of the new suspension, yeah?”_

“Absolutely.”

Although he knew that this practice track was cleaned up every year for world-class racers, Minho was still surprised at how expensive everything looked. He couldn’t help it; this was a massive step up from the only practice circuit back in Louisiana. Sure, it did the job, but this track was stunning. He didn’t know how the official competition track was going to top this one, but he wasn’t really going to have time to admire the scenery. 

Taking a corner a little tighter to test his suit, Minho was pleasantly surprised by the fact the air was completely knocked out of his lungs. Maybe it was time to up the speed.

“ _Hey Minho, Kelly says try to take the apex at the end of the straight. She reckons you can take it pretty fast with the new steering components, but don’t push it. We can’t afford new ones.”_

Minho grit his teeth as he narrowed his gaze on the end of the straight, an unwavering line of tar that to one-side is edged with a red and white barrier, and on the other seemingly endless sponsor posters that hid the coastline from view. “Roger that.”

He adjusted the grip of his gloved hands on the steering wheel and edged forward, the sound of his engine overlaying any other noise the car exerted. He could _feel_ the movement, as though the car was simply an extension of himself. _This is why he races._

As he prepared himself to take the innermost part of the corner, a sector of track untouched by Jisung’s tires, Minho felt another car dip into his consciousness. Seconds later, a hot pink front wing edged into his peripheral.

_Absolutely not._

Minho reached the corner first, following Seungmin’s directions while also being aware that Jordan would take the outside, therefore having the ability to pass him if he was awake properly. But Minho had the apex, therefore he had the advantage.

Playtime was over.

Minho pulled out first, and all of his observational nature flew out of the window. The pretty features of the track blended out like white noise as he addressed the clear withhold of information. “Seungmin, is Jordan the only other one out here?”

“ _How did you out turn him? I gotta say, that looked pretty slick, I'm impressed. Did you know they have camera surveillance here? Like proper stuff it's so-”_

“Seungmin, answer the question.”

“ _Jeez, okay. Uh, nah everyone is out there. Jisung left the pits a second ago so if you’re quick you might catch him. Jordan and Felix took off a bit after you did.”_

Minho’s eyes widened. “Okay. Cool.”

Blocking out whatever mocking statement Seungmin made towards his sudden change in attitude, Minho instead focused his attention on the upcoming tents that marked the end of his first lap. If what Seungmin had told him was right, he might actually be able to catch Jisung. Passing him would be another story, but Minho would have to work that out when he got there. 

_In, out._ Minho’s breathing had slowed dramatically as he pieced together a plan. “Hey, where’s Jordan?”

“ _He’s right on your tail, but- huh? Oh. Kelly wants to take the comm.”_

Minho nodded before realising that the HANS device and halo were restraining his movement and Seungmin would also not be able to tell a nod apart from the consistent vibrating of his body. “Yeah, put her on, she’s good.”

Jordan’s nose edged into his vision again as he took the next corner, by now passed the tents that he probably would have already stopped at if he was the only one on the track. But it was in Minho’s nature to accept a challenge when it was presented to him, and he wasn’t just going to chicken out. It had been too long since he took a proper chance.

Too long.

“ _Hey Minho, it’s Kels. What’s the plan? We playing this for real?”_

Minho smirked. “Hell yeah. Now quick, help me with getting Jordan off my tail.”

“ _Jordan and Felix?”_

Minho cursed, before accelerating. He was really doing this. Jordan slipped back again, disappearing even more after another tight corner. Minho wished he had time to thank his team for buying new parts, even if it meant that his bank account took the purchase very poorly. 

“ _Okay, the straight coming up; stick left side and you’ll get the better end of the drag. Take up the track a bit more so that they have no choice but to go oceanside.”_

“Roger that.”

Minho didn’t change speeds like many normally would going on to such a long straight, but if Kelly, race-engineer in training, was right about the drag, then it wasn’t worth racking up a couple more miles per hour only to damage his tires. He stuck to the inner-side, and was surprised to see it was the front wing of _Felix’_ s car intruding his vision this time. The reasonable black and blue of his vehicle was definitely less distracting than Jordan’s vibrant pink, so Minho barely even noticed it disappearing again. 

“ _Damn, Lee, you’re holding your ground well today- hey, I’m pretty sure Han’s engineer has picked up on you. He’s speeding up.”_

Minho’s pulse jumped at the flash of red beyond one of the lower barriers, and he could barely contain his excitement. At least, he thinks it's excitement. It may also be the g-force that has increased to match his rising speed, but he normally couldn’t tell them apart.

“Keep talking to me, Kelly.”

“ _Wait really? I mean, yeah of course. Uh, you’re a couple of corners behind him, so take the continue taking the apexes. But don’t speed up, we can’t risk damaging you or the car before the competition._ ”

Minho grit his teeth, already around the first turn, and his eyes fixed firmly on the next. “Okay.”

Tight, stay in control. Left this time.

Although he was already splitting his focus between the monitors on his dash and the road, Minho couldn’t help but grin when his gaze fell on the back of Jisung’s car. He had about a minute before both of them would near the pits again, which would be where he would stop this race. But Minho was feeling good, better than he had in a long time without the pressure of a championship in the forefront of his mind. Maybe that could be his strategy in the future; relax. It seemed pretty basic, now that he thought about it. 

He was close now, but still at least a car away from Jisung, and his time was running out. The red vehicle clung to the inside, and Minho followed closely behind him. _Easy does it. Don’t push it, Minho_.

The tents came into view in the distance, meaning that soon Minho was going to have to start slowing down, but he was so _close_. 

Minho’s jaw was beginning to hurt from tension, but Han was slipping away again. _One final push_.

“ _Wow that was cool to watch. Head for the pits now- wait are you-”_

The silver slid forward, matching the red’s pace. The blade is destined to come before blood, but somehow this is the first time it happened the way it should. Maybe the track has ongoing health problems.

Minho was neck and neck with Jisung’s vehicle; he may have even been able to touch the fiery red car if he wasn’t caged in on all sides and moving at a speed well above one hundred miles per hour. As the doorway of time closed, Minho chose to ignore the request to ease the speed. 

Something in him told him this race, even if it was barely a fair competition considering only one of it’s racers knew it was happening from the start, was important. Special, and worth the risk.

_So he would take the risk._

And then Jisung’s car dipped out of his vision.

Minho let out his breath in the form of a shaky laugh. “Holy _fuck_.”

Kelly was even more shocked than he was, and judging by the way Seungmin ran down to meet him in the pits, so was everyone else. The first thing Minho did when he got out of his car, grinning at the excited team members lifting up the halo for him, was look behind him to where Jisung had pitted. 

All he managed to absorb was Jisung’s lithe frame easing itself out of his vehicle before Seungmin caused his attention to shift again. 

His manager’s face was lit up with an expression of awe. It made Minho feel even happier; Seungmin hadn’t looked at him like that for a while. It wasn’t that Seungmin was ever upset with him for not placing well, but nothing compared to a moment like this. “Oh my god, Minho, you really scared me for a second there. I thought everything was going to fall to pieces but- you pulled it off.”

Minho laughed, stepping over the barge board to accept Seungmin’s extended arms as support. “I’d like to think my risk analysis has improved a little. The team did a brilliant job of finding those new parts. It was a perfect circuit.”

Kelly waved at Minho as he and Seungmin walked back into the tent to wait for her breakdown. Minho did wish that Seungmin was his race engineer most of time (even if he was really bad at filtering important information) but if he had to pick anyone else to replace Anderson, it would be Kelly. But she was still in training, so for the next two years he was stuck with a nasal voice that never failed to piss him off. 

Kelly’s screen displayed footage from a car cam Minho didn’t even know existed, but she paused it as they walked over. With a smile, she spoke. “That was bloody clean, Mr Lee. I’m looking forward to breaking it down, especially the speed? Your car outran Han’s for a couple of seconds there, and his is one of the best in the country. It’s so- Sorry, I won’t bore you with that stuff just yet. I’ve just been looking forward to this.”

Minho placed his helmet and mask on the table, and returned her smile. “It’s okay. I’m looking forward to hearing your breakdown later. Uh, Seungmin, what do we do in the meantime?”

Seungmin hummed, taking off his manager jacket as he thought. He folded it over his arm. “I think the mechs were planning on changing the camber before you head out there again, and we’ve got to get the cars out of here by 12:00 so… did you want to talk to Hyunjin or something?”

Minho deflated a little at that, so packed filled with adrenaline that just the thought of sitting around doing nothing made him uneasy. But Seungmin was right; he couldn’t exactly drive while the mechanics were working on the car. “Wait, why did Jisung pit so soon? He only did one lap that time.”

Seungmin looked up from where he had sat back down at his makeshift desk on the far side of the tent. “Huh? Han? Oh, they’ve been here for a couple of hours already. His tires are wearing out, so Changbin was thinking about packing up for the day.”

Minho’s heart fell at that. “Oh. That sucks. Hey, uh…”

He stepped away from Kelly's desk and lowered his voice, hoping she would be too absorbed in the camera footage to pay attention to him. “. . . _Can I go see him?_ ”

Seungmin met his eyes, biting his lip as though he was worried. Minho didn’t know why. “I… okay, but don’t make a scene, and be nice, okay? I know you just beat him but… Changbin told me they had an argument this morning, so they’re both a little sensitive at the moment.”

Minho’s brow furrowed at that, immediately understanding why Seungmin was worried. Something in his stomach stirred, his protective instincts already working themselves up. “They argued? Is Jisung okay?”

Rolling his eyes, Seungmin pushed him away but smiled at Minho’s uncharacteristic concern. “If you’re so worried about him, loverboy, you should go and talk to yourself. But nicely.”

Walking backwards towards the back of the tent, Minho held a sincere hand to his chest. Despite the need to go and comfort Jisung slowly taking over the many fibres of his body, he still managed to make a dramatic face, if only for Seungmin’s sake. “Kim Seungmin, I am a good man. I’m always nice.”

Minho was long gone by the time Seungmin muttered under his breath. “Yeah, right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I opened 'streetlight' at 7:00 on Sunday mornng, I was not prepared for the amount of feelings it gave me; it literally slapped me in the face and I am not kiDDING WHEN I SAY I NEARLY CRIED. Got me thinking 'bout how Seo Changbin deserves the fucking world I'm sorry for my bad language but I'm serious that boy is an angel on earth.  
> The blue tree for mental health awareness, the black and to colour transition symbolic of what his music is to him, the lyrics tell the story of him suffering in silence as well as offering comfort to others? Outstanding. 'It hurts to be alone'.  
> Seo Changbin. We love you.
> 
> anyways, hope you guys enjoyed the update!! for those of you who don't follow me on instagram (@oh_cxnada), I posted a little message about why I may be absent for a little while; New Zealand is ending quarantine, which means I'm back at school from today onwards, and let me tell you, its already taking a toll on my emotional wellbeing *sigh* so basically I may not be able to update weekly, but ill try my best! 
> 
> ily guys! bye for now <3


	22. We'll Survive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jisung whispered, his fingers fiddling anxiously with the edges of his gloves as his eyes trained on Minho’s silhouette as the other racer opened the door. This doesn’t feel right. This doesn’t feel right at all. “Okay. Bye, Minho.”
> 
> Minho offered a sad smile as he stepped back out into the sunlight. “See ya ‘round, monster rookie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEasE DON't BE MAD

It had taken all morning, but Changbin was smiling again as Jisung walked up from his car to the red tent with a neutral expression. At least, he hoped it was neutral because he was feeling pretty disappointed he had just lost. Jisung, not to brag, was not used to losing anything.

But the fact it was Minho who beat him made him a little less sad. He couldn't look away from the other's triumphant face as he talked to his crew outside the tent to the right of theirs. It was only when Felix and Jordan roared into the pits behind him that he remembered he shouldn't stare, no matter how beautiful Minho was and how much he wanted to just walk over there and kiss his- _woah, slow down there, Jisung_. 

Changbin, who was sitting a little too casually to be considered professional in his chair, nudged Jisung’s seat back from the table with the edge of his platform sneakers as he approached. He looked up from the notes in his hands only after Jisung had sat down, quickly studying Jisung’s body language, and decided that the younger wasn’t as upset as he had been. “Did that really just happen, Han?”

Jisung’s nonchalant expression broke into a frown. "Hey, it wasn’t my fault his car was randomly faster than mine.”

Changbin dared to push it a bit further, hoping Jisung would understand that by teasing him, he was implying that they were chill. "Well, it looked to me like you were a little distracted. Boy problems?"

Jisung's eyes widened and then narrowed again, only this time he was smiling as he punched Changbin's shoulder. "Yeah, but it was a problem with _you."_

Changbin rolled his eyes, setting the papers next to his playback feed, which was balanced precariously against his coffee cup. Jisung was tempted to knock it down. Changbin spoke with a mocking eyebrow raised. “Are you sure you weren’t just unprepared for him to make a move?”

Jisung crossed his tired arms across the chest of his suit, tilting his chin up as he tried to save his pride. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m _always_ ready.”

Then a set of arms found themselves around Jisung’s shoulders, the fingers tickling the exposed skin near Jisung’s jaw and eliciting a shriek of surprise from the racer. As Jisung fell forward to escape the unexpected touch, Felix and Changbin began laughing. 

Changbin accepted the high-five Felix offered as the racer in blue addressed Jisung. Jisung tried his best to glare at Felix from where he was on the floor, but it was pretty hard to be mad when the freckled boy was beaming mischievously at him, his pink hair rumpled by his helmet. “Another point to Lee Felix. That puts me 10:6, right?”

Groaning, Jisung tried to get his weary limbs to obey him, accepting Changbin’s hand and pulling himself up. “Ugh, I keep forgetting about that dumb competition. Why am I so _bad_ at this?”

Felix shrugged. “I dunno, man, maybe I’m just really good. At least I can be good at _something_.”

Changbin rattled his pen against the edge of the table, his gaze settling on the helmet in Felix’s arms. “Ah, you just came off the track too?”

Felix nodded. “Yeah, I came last in that little race Minho started. My race engineer thinks that there aren’t many changes we can make in one day, but he’s noted down a couple updates for us to apply before pole sitters. Only five days, right?”

Jisung perked up at the mention of the next race. “Yup, five days. I’m so excited to see who I’m up against!”

Felix shuddered, earning a wry smile from Changbin. “I’m glad one of us is happy, cause I’m _terrified_. I’m beginning to think I shouldn’t have taken that deal with California. You guys are way out of my league.”

Frowning, Jisung stood up, placing his hands on Felix’s shoulders. The other’s mischievous smile had faded, been chased away by the prospect of the upcoming competition. His fears were not unfounded; Felix _had_ only started racing around the same time as Jisung, and although he had improved a lot over the year, he certainly wasn’t as confident in his abilities as the other members of the American team. But Jisung really did think Felix could do it. “Hey. Lix. You deserve to be here just as much as we do. You _earnt_ your spot on this team, and I just know you can make it to the Finals. Right, Changbin?”

Changbin, who had been watching quietly, hummed in agreement. “We believe in you, Lix. And remember that even if you don’t take home a podium placing this year, doesn’t mean you can’t try again, yeah? You too, Jisung. These are early days.”

Felix pulled Jisung into a tight hug, causing Jisung to gasp out a laugh. “Woah man, you good?”

Felix buried his face in the material of Jisung’s suit, no doubt getting a mouthful of rubbery sponsorship as he spoke. “Yeah, I’m okay, I just like hugs. I’m probably not going to let you go, you know.”

Changbin shook his head in amusement and went back to piecing together his final report, leaving Jisung on his own to work out how to free himself from Felix’s clutches. 

It was after the minute mark that Jisung began to squirm. “Felix- let me go-”

“No.”

Glancing around for something he could use to pry Felix’s arms away from his shoulders, Jisung’s gaze drifted over where his team was packing up for the day, and finally came to a stop at the back corner of the tent, where the spare tools were. He gently leaned to see if Felix would allow him movement and was pleasantly surprised when Felix laughed into his neck. “You aren’t going anywhere unless you take me with you.”

Jisung took another few steps backward to work around the main table, using the limited mobility in his lower arm to feel around the sharp edges and make sure he wasn’t impaled. “Uh-huh.”

Jisung could feel Felix’s expression change even through his suit, a tickling sensation against his collar bone. “Hey, where _are_ we going?”

He was so close to the chest of tools he could brush them with the edges of his fingers. “Nowhere special.”

Raising his head in the hopes it would help him reach further, Jisung’s fingers wrapped around something cold and metallic. A devious smile grew on his face. 

Felix finally raised his head. “Hey, that’s a stupid answ- HAN JISUNG YOU ARE NOT GOING TO SEPERATE US WITH A SCREWDRIVER.”

Jisung winced as Felix’s arms pulled him closer, and he was disappointed that he couldn’t see the other’s face as he poked him gently. Felix yelped. “Jisung, I thought I could _trust_ you. How dare you, I thought you loved me?!”

“Woah- am I interrupting something?”

Jisung immediately broke himself from Felix’s grip as he spun to locate the source of the voice. Minho had his head stuck half in the back flap of the tent, clearly trying to avoid being seen by the rest of his team, with a half-amused, half puzzled expression on his face. Jisung’s face lit up. “Hi! No, uh, it’s fine, Felix was just in need of a hug and… things escalated quickly.”

Minho raised one of his perfectly even eyebrows, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Oh? That’s not what it sounded like.”

Felix raised his arms in panic as Minho’s gaze transferred to him. “I was joking, I swear!”

Minho hummed as though he was deciding whether to believe Felix or not, but they all knew he was just messing around. “Hmm… okay, I’ll let you off the hook for now if you let me borrow Hannie for a moment. Is that cool?”

Felix shrugged. “Sure, I don’t want him.”

Jisung gasped, whipping back around to face Felix. “What the fuck?! What happened to never letting me go?”

Felix was already moving back towards Changbin, throwing a wink over his shoulder. “I’ve moved on, Jisung, Changbin awaits my return.”

Changbin turned in his seat at the sound of his name being used and took a second to absorb the scene. Felix skipping towards him, Jisung standing with his mouth wide open at the back of the tent, and then the obvious bulge in the back exit that could only be Minho. Either that, or Seungmin was coming back, but Changbin had a feeling his boyfriend would have texted if that was the case. “What do you want, Felix?”

Felix clutched his chest before slumping into the chair Changbin had pulled out earlier for Jisung. “Love.”

Changbin glanced to where he presumed Minho was and then back to Jisung who met his gaze nervously, unsure of how the older would react if he knew Minho was there. Changbin sighed, before nodding firmly an answer to Jisung’s unasked question. The younger offered a small, grateful smile before sliding out the back of the tent to talk to his boyfriend. 

Felix narrowed his eyes as the exchange went on, trying to interpret the conversation but ultimately failing. He whined as Jisung disappeared. “Why can’t _I_ communicate telepathically?”

Changbin leaned over to poke Felix with his pen. “Maybe it’s cause you don’t have to go on full-day road trips with Jisung monthly. Trust me, it’s not worth it.”

Felix pouted. “But that sounds fun!”

Changbin decided not to argue.

. . .

Jisung felt a little better now that Changbin had approved of the exchange, and was confident enough to step outside the tent. He closed the flap gently behind him, releasing a sigh. "Well-"

Minho wrapped his arms around Han’s torso and spun him to face him. Jisung is almost blinded by the wide smile on his face, one that extended to the corners of his eyes and the symmetrical shape of his cheekbones. Jisung was so stunned that he can’t even fit in a greeting before Minho pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

Han kissed him back but pulled away slightly so that he could speak through the absolute chaos in his mind. "W-Woah… what's got you so happy?"

Minho laughed, shifting his hands from his back to his waist. Jisung tried not to react too much to the casual touch, but his heart was working at a hundred miles per hour. “I beat you. I think that’s a valid reason to be happy.”

Jisung tried to pout but it was hard when he was smiling at the same time. “I almost forgot about that. No need to rub it in my face.”

Minho giggled, a delirious sound that contrasted the perfection of his appearance and made Jisung want to swoon, fall forward onto Minho’s shoulders and stay there forever. “Sorry not sorry, Hannie. I missed you.”

It was Jisung’s turn to giggle. “I saw you _yesterday_.”

“Hmm… too long.”

Minho’s hand slipped into Jisung's and Jisung allowed himself to be led up the stairs towards the racer cafe. “Hey, where are we going?”

Minho slowed as they reached the top of the stairs, and dropped Jisung’s hand as a couple of crew members walked passed. He lowered his voice, but Jisung could’ve heard the smile in it even if he wasn’t staring unashamedly at the other’s face. “I just wanted to talk with you for a while, and I heard from Seungmin that you guys were leaving soon, so I figured I could accompany you to the changing rooms.”

Jisung felt his cheeks heating up. “W-wait, what?”

Minho blinked at him innocently for a couple seconds before he realised the implications of his words. “Oh my god, that sounds really dodgy-”

Jisung envied Minho’s smooth, pale skin that remained unflushed even when he was embarrassed, because Jisung was sure his cheeks were coloured by now. “It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it like that. But if you did, I… I- uh, you know what, maybe we should change the subject.”

_If you did, I wouldn’t mind._

Minho’s fingers froze from where they were pulling his silver collar away from his neck as Jisung’s words settled in his head. He averted eye contact, his heart roaring in his ears. “Yeah, that sounds good. Uh, how are you doing?”

Jisung's laughter was awkward as he lifted a hand to fan his cheeks. “I’m doing good. Would you be mad if I said better now that you’re here?”

Clutching a hand to his stomach, Minho gagged. “Ew, Han, _never_ say that again.”

Jisung pouted and crossed his arms across his chest, stopping in the middle of the footpath. Minho paused from his act to glance back curiously. “Aw, sulky baby.”

The insult earned the wanted reaction, Jisung immediately breaking his act and approaching Minho with narrowed eyes. God, did Jisung wish he could wipe the shit-eating grin of Minho’s face as he grabbed his chin. The older’s pretty eyelashes fluttered as he feigned innocence. Jisung would have fallen for it if he hadn’t kept his wits about him. “Could a baby do this?”

Minho pressed his chin further into Jisung’s palm, suddenly not caring how many people could probably see them from the cafe across over the glass wall. “Hmm… the verdicts are still out. What else can this baby do?”

Jisung’s eyes flickered back down to Minho’s lips, and as much as everything in him was yelling _KISS HIM,_ he knew that was exactly what Minho wanted. And Jisung didn’t like being called a baby, so he dropped his hand. “You’re cute.”

Minho, having seen the conflicted emotions in Jisung’s eyes, was not supremely disappointed as the other slid away sporting a confident smirk. He could let Jisung slip away just this once; Minho held the hopes that he would have a long time yet to steal all the kisses in the world.

Jisung went back to wandering up the hastily paved white path, trying to calm his racing heart by fixing his gaze on the track below them. He had been so distracted by Minho’s intoxicating presence that he hadn’t realised they had nearly reached the top of the hill. It wasn’t all that steep but it was still a pretty view, allowing for not only the sight of Jordan’s highlighter pink car taking lonely laps around the urban-themed track, but also the blue ocean that extended all the way to the horizon line. Jisung imagined the sunsets would be pretty from here.

Minho followed Jisung’s gaze, finally rematching his pace with the younger before speaking quietly. “Hey. Uh, the reason I was asking if you were okay was… Seungmin said you and Changbin had an argument this morning.”

Jisung felt a chill run down his spine at the mention of the dreaded argument. His eyes fell to the ground, focusing on where his shoes were falling one in front of the other as what he had said to Changbin rose to the forefront of his mind. His hair fell into his vision as he replied. “Yeah. We did.”

Minho felt awful prying, but seeing Jisung anything but bubbly made his chest hurt. They stepped up the stairs in synchrony as Minho tried to work out how to ask carefully. “Is… Are things okay now?”

Jisung smiled slightly, making eye contact for a moment to find Minho’s piercing brown eyes had softened around the edges. He wondered what he had done to earn such a sight. “Yeah, we talked it out. Uh… I feel like you should know that the argument was about you.”

Minho’s mouth fell open a little, and his mind immediately flickered back to the various encounters he had had with Changbin over the past three weeks, trying to figure out what he had done wrong and how to solve it all while he and Jisung shifted further from the safe zone of the track and into the unknown. “Oh.”

Jisung waved his hands, trying to soften the blow of his rather abrupt statement. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Minho, you’re- you’re amazing. Changbin…”

Minho furrowed his brow, unable to take his gaze away from Jisung as they walked. “Yeah?”

Jisung glanced up at the bathroom building, where he would get changed, before looking around them. It was a little late to be checking for eavesdroppers, but Jisung wanted to make sure they were long out of earshot before they began openly discussing their relationship. “Can we talk inside?”

Tearing his eyes away from Jisung’s worried face, Minho followed his gaze to the building and nodded, despite still being distracted by the sudden change in atmosphere. “Yeah, that’s a good idea, Sung.”

Jisung didn’t know what to feel; he had thought he was over Changbin’s comments from that morning, but now that Minho was here and so beautiful, real right in front of him, it was suddenly impossible to explain what he was thinking. What he _wanted_ to say was that Changbin didn’t know him as well as Jisung did. That Changbin was being cold and thought Minho was only here to win, willing to sabotage Jisung to do so. 

But that wasn’t what Changbin really said, and Jisung highly doubted something like that ran through Changbin’s head at all. He had been realistic, something Jisung had been struggling with ever since meeting Minho because everything about him was surreal. 

Minho held the metal door open for Jisung and made a visible attempt to smile uncertainly as they made their way to the changing area. Jisung cleared his throat, throwing a quick glance around the room to make sure it was empty before he made eye contact with Minho again. Minho had taken a seat on one of the cool metal benches and looked as though he was lost deep in thought. 

He looked up emotionlessly when Jisung cleared his throat, as though he was burying his reaction beneath layers of ice. Protecting himself. It wasn’t unlike the expression he had when he had apologised to Jisung, all the way back in Houston.

They really had come a long way.

Jisung exhaled as he sat down across from Minho, before sliding out of the glare of the sunlight that cut through the slim windows at the top of the building. He gripped the edge of the bench as he spoke. “I don’t really know what to say about it. It was just quite bad. I don’t want to accuse you of anything, and these things are definitely not what I think! I just, you kn-”

“Jisung,” Minho murmured, his lips upturned slightly into a fond smile, the emotion flooding back at the sound of Jisung’s voice, “it’s okay, just tell me.”

If Changbin was right, and Minho was pretending to like him as sabotage, then holy shit Minho was a good actor.

Jisung winced. “I… okay. So… Changbin found out that we were dating. And he is worried that I don’t know you well enough. He thinks… he’s worried that you might hurt me emotionally before the Prix. So that you have the upper hand.”

Minho’s expression falls, and suddenly, he’s all silver. Sharp, cold. “He said that?”

Jisung nodded cautiously, his stomach turning over nervously. “Yeah.”

After a moment of tense silence, the shoulders of his silver race suit relax. Minho closed his eyes and Jisung watched quietly. 

When he eventually spoke, Minho’s tone was smoother than Jisung expected, but he knew that he and Minho weren’t alike in the way they handled their problems. Even from watching the others interviews over the last couple of years, in which reporters often overstepped their boundaries, Minho was never phased. He simply cut himself off before he said anything harsh and removed himself from the situation. 

Jisung hoped Minho wouldn’t leave now.

“Cool. Okay.”

There was a cautionary moment of silence before Minho continued.

“Do you agree with him, Han? Is everything an act?”

His suit felt like it was constricting him from displaying his full sincerity as he shook his head vigorously. “No. No, I think you- I think you really like me, as much as I like you. But it was just… scary. Changbin’s right. I don’t _really_ know you. And you don’t really know me. I- I don’t...”

Minho leaned back, his muscles remaining tense but his eyes opened again. The Red Bull patch on his shoulder was glossy and shone brightly in the sunlight, as though competing against the zipper of his silver suit for the top spot. He looked conflicted, as though he was just as lost for words as Jisung was, yet what he did manage was still eloquent. “I’m… I think I like you a lot more than you know Jisung. And yeah, I don’t know you, but that doesn’t mean I can’t learn, right? I’d like to think I’ve learnt a lot about you over the last week.”

Jisung murmured with a smile. “You have.”

Minho sighed, reaching up to drag a hand through his sweaty black hair. Only parts of it fell back onto his forehead, but it looked purposeful to some degree. “Did he… did he say anything else?”

“I… no. Not really. I told him… I told him that I’d ask you if we could pause. Pause our relationship until after the finals.”

Those words seem to cut both of them at once, though while Jisung winced as soon as they left his mouth, Minho froze up again. 

His tone was wounded as he spoke, but Jisung didn’t properly pick up on it, too scared that Minho was going to break up properly with him then and there. “You… you _want_ to? I mean, of course. Uh, it makes sense. Just for three weeks?”

Jisung nodded weakly. “Yeah? Then we can pick up where we left off.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a sound-proof plan.”

Minho stood first, any hint of the smile he had worn on their way to the change rooms long gone. In its place was something sadder, more forced. He reached out to Jisung, a palm that was bare aside from the thin layer of black polyester extending around his thumb and the heel of his hand. 

It was like he was saying without saying that this was okay, but Jisung felt as though this was going horribly wrong.

Jisung took his hand cautiously. He couldn’t really force a smile, so he just apologised profusely. “I’m sorry, Minho, I really am. It’s just- oh god this sounds so bad. Racing is important to me and I- I’m sorry.”

Minho silenced Jisung with a slow kiss to his bare forehead, pressing his fingers to Jisung’s chin to guide his face towards his lips. Jisung faltered for a moment, realising that this may never happen again. Minho might wake up in a couple days and think it was all just some bad dream, and then he’d never get to be with him after the finals. He leant into the touch, and as Minho pulled away to talk, he surged forward again, pressing his lips against Minho’s, his chest constricting. _Don’t be silly._

_I can’t help it._

What was intended as a final goodbye kiss could have escalated if Minho hadn’t pulled back, his eyes glowing with unspoken emotion. Jisung reluctantly loosened his grip around Minho’d waist, his hands falling defeatedly at his sides. 

After taking a step back, Minho extended a hand across the new gap between them, tucking a strand of Jisung’s dark hair behind his ear carefully. 

Jisung bit his lip, feeling the finality of the action in full force. He blurted out rushed condolence with a nervous laugh to aid the delivery. “We’ll survive, won’t we?”

Minho’s eyes dimmed a little, and he stepped back for real this time, turning his body towards the door as he spoke. “Yeah, we’ll survive. It’s what you and Changbin want.”

There was something unfamiliar about the words, something cold and biting. It wasn’t obvious. But it was there. Jisung brushed over it, forcing a last smile. “I’m glad. I really like you, Minho.”

Minho glanced back over his shoulder, his brow pulled together as though he was mad and sad at the same time. “I like you too.” 

_I’m starting to think its a little more than just liking you, Han Jisung. But do you even feel the same?_

“I should probably head back now. But… I’ll see you at the next conference, okay?”

Jisung whispered, his fingers fiddling anxiously with the edges of his gloves as his eyes trained on Minho’s silhouette as the other racer opened the door. This doesn’t feel right. This doesn’t feel right at all. “Okay. Bye, Minho.”

Minho offered a sad smile as he stepped back out into the sunlight. “See ya ‘round, monster rookie.”

. . .

It was obvious to everyone around him that Lee Minho was upset, and had been for days. Seungmin couldn’t believe how much energy and enthusiasm Minho had had in the practice circuits, but when it came to their final practice before pole sitters, all of the motivation, the drive; it was gone. It was as though Minho had settled for second place.

Not good, considering pole sitters were only a day away.

Seungmin knew it was because of his conversation with Jisung. But Seungmin didn’t know what they had talked about, simply that Minho had stopped his daily coffee stops, instead of helping Seungmin with paperwork and laying in bed talking to Hyunjin. Seungmin wished the older man would talk to him, but every time the conversation twisted in the rookie’s direction, Minho went back to talking tactics.

Seungmin also knew that he should find out the source of the issue, but Minho’s head is his private place. Seungmin just hoped that if something really bad ever happens, Minho would tell him. Hopefully, that really bad thing wouldn’t happen any time soon.

It was a day before pole sitters, and Seungmin was filing the last of their modification notes in a private hotel room. They sat in silence in the empty suite, Minho spinning slowly on his chair, lost in thought, and Seungmin watching him from over a cup of tea. 

Minho came to a halt, tilting his head back and allowing a sigh to escape his lips. He folded his arms across his white button-down. “Jisung told me that he wanted to pause our relationship. Until after finals.”

Seungmin set his cup of tea down before processing the words. He winced. “Oh, Know.”

Minho closed his eyes and pressed his sneakers back to the ground so he could start spinning again. “Yeah. I understood why he was doing it though, like, getting rid of distraction and stuff but…”

“It still hurts.”

Minho nodded, gritting his teeth. Like he was in pain. But Seungmin supposed he was in pain. Minho’s emotions were strong, often difficult for him to control, and Seungmin worried that if the older continued the way he did, he would combust. Self-destruct all over again.

“You know I’m here, right? Whenever you need me, Know.”

Exhaling through his nose, Minho’s eyes fluttered back open. He offered Seungmin a half-smile. “Yeah, I know. You’re a good friend, Min.”

Seungmin startled at the sudden compliment but that didn't stop him from standing with his arms extended. “Hug, please.”

Minho snorted, and suddenly, he lit up with something he had been missing for days; that cocky confidence that once come so naturally and was finally reappearing in his actions. “Please, Seungmin, your hugs are the worst. You’re so… bony.”

Seungmin choked on air. “I can’t _believe_ you would insult me like this! You just called me a good friend but you won’t even hug me?! Hyunjin thinks my hugs are amazing!”

“He only says that so that he can get more hugs out of you, you know. He’s so thirsty for physical contact that he’ll take whatever he can get.”

Seungmin stood abruptly at that, and Minho raised his arms automatically to defend himself, laughing airily. He wasn’t really laughing, but it was the most he and Seungmin had talked properly for days, so it was still music to Seungmin’s ears. “Yah! I’ll tell him that.”

Minho shrugged, lowering his arms a little. “He can’t do anything from back home. Come on, Seungminnie, you know it’s true.”

Seungmin sat back down, unable to argue so settled for signing the papers more aggressively. Minho rolled his eyes, but the smile playing at the corners of his mouth made all the ruthless and frankly, rude bullying worth it. Seungmin was satisfied when he went back to playing whatever game he had on his phone. 

It appeared that things were getting back to normal, or at least adapting. It would only be roughly two weeks until Minho could get back to spending time with Jisung, maybe even take him for a real date. Polesitters tomorrow, then the official Semis in a week. Then the Monaco Grand Prix Finals.

Surely nothing else could go wrong before then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can explain  
> probably  
> nvm i can't explain rn but i promise that this is all happening for reason haahaaaaaaaaaaaaa  
> all i can do now is warn y'all that its going to get worse before it gets better but THERE'S A HAPPY ENDInG I PROMISE  
> hope y'all enjoyed this despite the light angst!!  
> tune in next time for the results of polesitters and seungbin to heal you right before i literally obliterate the plot as we know it ;)  
> \------  
> i wanna say thank you to stray kids for that beautiful teaser and also thank you to you guys for hyping me up because daMN is this exciting i literally can't wait for Go Live to come out... minho racer??? felix racer?? yes pLEASE
> 
> follow me on instagram: @oh_cxnada i promise you'll regret it!!


	23. Reunited for The Meantime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jisung quickly discovered that distancing himself from Minho only made him more distracted. Somehow, everything was reminding of the racer he had met in person for the first time only a month beforehand, and it really wasn’t making him feel better.
> 
> \---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unedited but i will try and find time to do that tomorrow... hope you guys enjoy all the same!!

Jisung quickly discovered that distancing himself from Minho only made him more distracted. Somehow, everything was reminding of the racer he had met in person for the first time only a month beforehand, and it really wasn’t making him feel better.

From the taste of bitter coffee on his tongue to the passing of a taxi cab, or the rise in miles on the treadmill databoard, Minho’s absence was far, far more noticeable than Jisung could have imagined, and everyday he regretted his decision more and more. It’s just three weeks, they said. 

It felt like it had been years, and Jisung was only missing him more every second.

Even now, in the final lap of pole-sitters, he was desperately gripping the edge of his focus, trying not to let it slip away from him as a metallic black and silver car edged up alongside his on a particularly narrow bend. Although Jisung was beyond numb and was struggling to care about the race he was currently in, he couldn’t afford to come second. Ever.

It would only show that he wasn’t as perfect as everyone made him out to be.

It wasn’t Minho’s silver bullet of a car; it was Raphael’s. But that didn’t stop Jisung from hoping it was his boyfriend’s, that maybe Minho was going to take the top spot from him once again. But in reality, he had lost sight of Minho way back at the startline, the older having already been waiting in his car when Jisung jumped the barrier to approach his own.

The sun was hidden behind the clouds, meaning the glare on the track as Jisung shot towards the final straight wasn’t half as bad as usual. But the grey sky felt as though it was mocking Jisung, showing him how dull his world was as of the moment. This feeling of dullness was also a by-product of the empty stadium grandstands that were fast approaching, bare of all people except for the official Monacan reporters that were allowed in on pole-sitters. This meant that the track relied on the cars and tents for colour, and with Jisung leading the pack, he was alone on the grey strip.

“ _Jisung, I‘m trying to be patient but this is really fucking important and you need to wake up.”_

Changbin was annoyed. Obviously. 

So Jisung grit his teeth, pulling out in front of Raphael again with a last burst of energy and octane. _You can break down once you’re across the line, Jisung. Keep it together._

He was up against the greatest Formula One racers in the world, and yet even in his distracted state, no one had slipped past him. Maybe he wasn’t the only one having a miserable day.

Knuckles clenching tighter around the steering wheel, the rubbery grip palpable even through his gloves, Jisung straightened his steering. The finish line was in sight.

“ _Donghyuck and Raphael are right on your tail, do not coast. Full power.”_

Jisung’s eyes narrowed on the black and white flag, his mind suddenly clearing, leaving an expanse of nothing but the ability to process what his senses were taking in. “Yessir.”

  1. 4\. 3. 2. 1.



There were no obnoxious commentators for polesitters, just as there were no crowds. Just officials writing down notes and taking times, and media companies ready to report who had done what. Jisung hated how numb he felt, knowing he was being dramatic and that this was _serious_ but unable to stop himself from feeling, especially not the way Chan could.

Jisung was also first to finish his warm down lap, meaning when he finally pulled up at the finish line for the second time, he wanted nothing more than to be at home with Chan so he could get out of all of his suffocating thoughts. As if hearing his cry for help and subconsciously choosing to do the opposite, Changbin gifted him with the beautiful conversation of white noise. Of course, it wasn’t Changbin’s job to conversate with him; he had to organise camera footage, check times with other crew members and make sure everyone was in order before he talked to Jisung about the cool down regimen that the younger knew off by heart.

But that didn’t mean Jisung wasn’t in need of his friend.

To distract himself, Jisung worked out by the colours and numbers of the cars passing him who came what, and consequently, which of these thirty racers stood the highest chance of making top 10 for the Finals.

First place, the person sitting at the front of the pack in an obnoxiously red car for Semis was Han Jisung.

Second place in a black and silver hybrid car with the number _21_ detailed on the side was Raphael Laurent, Monaco’s top and only representative and as of today, Jisung’s biggest competition. Held first for two minutes in polesitters before Jisung roused his senses again.

Third was one of Canada’s two representatives, Lee Donghyuck, racer name Haechan.

Jisung counted the other cars as they came in, trying to figure out where the rest of the American team would be. His own win felt unimportant, so he felt he needed to celebrate someone else’s. He just hoped that they stood a chance. Although he had meant to be monitoring Felix and Jordan’s places as well, Jisung’s eyes immediately settled on Minho’s car as he settled in sixth place. The silver vehicle came to a controlled stop a few cars ahead of him, and Jisung felt a little better. Minho was going to be okay. 

“ _Hey, Jisung.”_

Jisung snapped back to attention at the sound of Changbin’s voice, studying the dial on his dash to make sure the car was cooling effectively. “Uh, yeah, it's getting there. New stuff must be working better.”

“ _Great.”_

A pause.

“ _Jisung, you know that you’re not holding yourself together, right?”_

Jisung cleared his throat lightly, but his voice still shook. “I won, though. I’m fine.”

“ _No offense but you’re clearly fucking not. If this had been the semis and the weather had been fine then you would have been fucked. I don’t know why Raphael eased off, but he slowed Hyuck down at the last four apexes. I think his team has something planned for semis. So you either wake the fuck up and beat him or you lose at the Monaco Semi Finals.”_

The older’s tone was harsh, angry, but Jisung knew what Changbin was saying wasn’t intended to be so. He was worried for Jisung, and after such a colourless few days, he had built up all of these unsaid comments, and it was all coming out at once. 

Jisung croaked. “Okay. I’ll wake up.”

“ _I hope you will Jisung. But maybe… maybe you should talk to Minho. From what I hear, he isn’t doing great either. Maybe splitting up was a mistake.”_

At the mention of Minho’s name, Jisung’s eyes darted to the silver car, and it's pretty, colour-coded sponsor stickers. But he didn’t feel as excited at the prospect as he had hoped. He felt nervous. 

_What if he doesn’t miss me?_

“Uh, okay. Cool. Cool, cool I can do that.”

“ _Okay, Jisung. We just need you back, yeah?”_

Jisung exhaled. “Yeah.”

“ _On a different note, looks like all of you guys made it top 10.”_

In contrast to the grey sky and the numb feeling in his chest, Jisung’s face broke out into a tentative smile as he scanned the track to see that Jordan’s hot pink car was in front of Minho’s, and Felix’s had taken spot 10. “Oh, well that’s brilliant! Go America!”

Changbin laughed. “ _Indeed.”_

Jisung sat for the next few seconds in contemplative silence, before the last cars had crossed the line and he was given the okay to get out of his car. He tried to look at the tarmac as he stepped out, but everything in him wanted to look up, to find Minho’s face and try and put a smile on it. 

He used the edge of the halo to climb out safely, and once he was on firm ground, his first instinct was to rid his head of his helmet and mask. Once his vision was free of any restraints, his willpower broke. Jisung glanced up.

And his eyes met a pair of familiar ones, dark brown and cold. Too cold. Minho’s faint smile disappeared as Jisung made eye contact with him and Jisung’s heart dropped to his shoes. He was sure he looked hopelessly lost but it didn’t matter. He hadn’t seen Minho for days.

Minho expression was conflicted; his lips downturned but his eyes unmoving, as though he was waiting for something. But neither of them had the chance to approach each other before Minho’s attention was drawn by another racer, a kid with ink black hair and a matching black race suit but a smile that blinded Jisung from even where he was standing. _Ah, that must be Jeongin._

Jisung swallowed the lump in his throat as he watched the unfamiliar racer punch Minho in the shoulder playfully and although the older scowled at him, it took nothing to see that Minho was holding back a smile. Jisung felt painfully alone, and the sleeping dragon at the pit of his stomach woke up, unfurling its wings and killing the remaining butterflies.

He looked back to the ground and tried his best to keep it under control. _Minho doesn’t hate you, Jisung, he said it was okay. He said it was okay. Just a pause._

As he stood and waited for his own team to finish with analytics and take his car into the pits, Jisung let his mind drift away again. 

“Ji-Ji~”

Or not. Jisung looked up with wide eyes at the source of the honey-coloured voice, and then he remembered that this was a world wide event. He had just half-assed a _world-wide event_ and even Lee Donghyuck hadn’t been able to do anything about it.

Haechan’s suit was mismatched from his car, his vehicle being black and yellow, like the bees Mark found so interesting, and his suit blue and white. It hugged his slim frame as he watched Jisung skeptically from his casual seat on the ground, his soft, round eyes somehow sharp in their observations and making Jisung feel like an open book. 

How someone could look so confident sitting on the floor of a drag-strip surrounded by million-dollar racers, Jisung didn’t know. But he was impressed.

Haechan continued now that he had Jisung’s attention, leaning back onto the heels of his hands. “What’s wrong with you, huh? That wasn’t exactly a good run through.”

Jisung shook his head disappointedly, something uncharacteristic of him but Haechan tended to have that effect on people. “Well, hello to you too, Hyuck. You are aware I bet you, right?”

Haechan hummed. “Yeah, but if Mr Monaco over there hadn’t spaced the track then I would have left you in the dust.”

Jisung glanced over to where Raphael was standing behind them, the other racer’s attention seemingly far from the race track, before looking back at Donghyuck and shrugging. “I’m sure you could have slipped through. I know your steering system is good, Canada.”

Donghyuck shrugged. “Maybe I could have. Or maybe we all think it's more fun to have to sneak past you in the Finals. Take a pick, neither are wrong.”

Jisung kinda knew that was what was happening. It perfectly explained why Raphael wasn’t rushing himself to take advantage of Jisung’s vulnerable driving. Donghyuck was well known for his ability to beat the odds, performing best when he was under pressure instead of cruising due to his easily triggered over-confidence. His fastest time was similar to Jisung’s but Jisung had no doubt he could pass him if he actually tried. It was worrying.

Jisung sighed. “Yeah. You’re right.”

Haechan eyed Jisung’s tired face for a couple seconds before deciding that the sadness really was not an attractive look on Jisung. He cleared his throat, only needing a single push off the track to propel himself into a standing position. Jisung smiled sadly at the movement, something that normally would have had him in an awe filled state. 

“Well, have you checked out the rest of our new competition? There are lots of youngsters this year. I could eat them up.”

Jisung laughed, following Haechan’s gaze to a racer he knew as China’s top representative, who had taken 5th. “I don’t doubt that at all. Got your eyes on one in particular, I see.”

Haechan smirked. “No, I wouldn’t hurt anyone. But he’s special, I think. I might even go as far as to say I feel threatened by him...”

Jisung snorted. “Yeah right. Lee Donghyuck? Threatened?”

_There’s the smile_. Donghyuck rubbed his chin, continuing the act. “Ah, you do have a point. Well, he’s cute all the same, isn’t he?”

Jisung studied the racer across the way, who looked intently focused on whatever the man in front of him was saying. He was pretty with strange-coloured hair, bleached blonde and purple, and a willowy frame that made him look fragile when paired with his height, but judging by the scowl on his face, he was anything but. 

Jisung shrugged. “I guess so. I thought you were done with romance? I will quote you directly when saying ‘humans are trash bags not worthy of my presence or love. Mark, call the limo.’”

Donghyuck gasped. “How could you use my own words against me like this Jisung?! After all I’ve done for you?”

Jisung couldn’t help but smile at the familiarity of the situation, as it was amusing how even he assumed the more serious role around Donghyuck. Maybe he could counter Haechan’s dramatic flair, but until then, he was satisfied with winding him up. “And here I thought you would praise me for my memory. But really, Hyuck. Are all these boys just eye candy to you or do you actually think we should look out for some of them?”

Han wondered whether Haechan’s long lashes got in his vision as he scanned the track for the cars that were waiting alongside them. Minho said that his own did sometimes. 

Ah, Minho. Jisung wanted to apologise so bad, yet he could barely stand still when he thought of him, nerves coursing through his veins. _He had asked for this_. So why does he feel like he is incapable of fixing it?

“Well, I think Raphael is worth the Prix for sure. You and myself, of course. And… what was the name of the top Korean rep, again?”

Jisung glanced at the man in the red and white suit down from them, squinting as though that would help him remember his name. “Uhh… Lee…?”

Donghyuck rolled his eyes, before turning to where the officials were waiting by the edge of the track and yelling. Jisung’s eyes widened. 

“Hey, windbreaker! What’s number 23’s name?”

A woman in a black windbreaker raised both her eyebrows at Donghyuck’s rowdiness, looking up from her clipboard to see who he was pointing to. To Jisung’s surprise, she leafed through her papers before calling back. “Lee Jeno!”

Haechan winked at her before turning back to Jisung as nothing had happened. “Thanks, much appreciated. There you go, Jisung.”

As ‘Jeno’ turned around with a puzzled expression, Jisung dropped into a crouch, buried his face in his hands and groaned in embarrassment. “What the _hell,_ Hyuck, you can’t just go around yelling at people in general, let along _racing officials_.”

Donghyuck snorted, departing from where his car was parked to pat Jisung’s head a tad forcefully. “It’s okay, Jisungie, you’ll get over it.”

Jisung sighed, not raising his head. “Ugh, I’ve had enough of you for one day. Where’s Changbin when you need him?”

Donghyuck's hand paused from its patting to pinch Jisung's arm, causing Jisung to yelp and fall back away from the touch, before he gestured to where Changbin was walking down to the track behind Seungmin. “Apparently your bestie has heard your cry for help, rookie. It’s a shame, we could have had so much more fun-”

Jisung almost wept for joy, but his theatrics were interrupted by yet another official, only this time, it was through the speakers by the host box.

“ _Okay, cleared! Teams, head to the tracks. Congratulations to Korea, America, Monaco and Germany for taking up top 10 spots, and we’ll see you all next week for the Semi Finals. If all management teams could please meet at 10:00 on Monday we’ll arrange…_ ”

Just like that, pole sitters were over. And although Jisung felt like shit, he had the strangest feeling that the storm was yet to come.

_. . ._

Changbin tugged a black hoodie over his t-shirt, before studying himself critically in the mirror. He couldn’t really tell whether his outfit was too casual or not, which wasn’t normal for him. Changbin prided himself in his attention to detail, but tonight it was much harder than usual. He sighed, deciding to disturb Jisung just once to get the confirmation he needed that he should change into something else.

Jisung was moping on the window seat again, drawing shapeless objects in his sketchbook lit only by the fading pink light of the city. Changbin felt Jisung’s aching heart from where he stood and he wondered briefly whether Jisung would prefer it if he just called Haewon and Seungmin and told them he couldn’t make it. Then he remembered that even when he was drowning, Jisung would rather other people stay happy than drag them down with him.

_Stupid rookie. Wonder where he learnt that from._

He sighed, walking out of the closet and propping himself on the spare space near Jisung’s feet. Jisung looked up at him, and smiled. “Hey hey. Going out?”

Changbin nodded, his gaze resting on Jisung’s pink socks as he spoke. “Yeah, Seungmin and I are going to meet up with an old friend. You know, Haewon from my stories?”

Jisung rested his sketchbook in his lap as he nodded with a grin. “Yeah, I remember. That’s great, Bin. I hope you enjoy yourself.”

Changbin looked up at Jisung, the younger’s face a strange mix of gold and pink. It was pretty. “Thank you. Are… are you going to be okay?”

Jisung nodded vigorously. “Absolutely! I’ll… survive. Oh. Uh- I’m planning on talking to Minho tomorrow or the next day or something. I miss him. A lot more than I thought I would, Bin, and I think I hurt him bad.”

Changbin frowned, patting Jisung’s bare knee. “Hey, you’re not the only one at fault. I was the dumb one who didn’t trust you and Minho. I wouldn’t have said anything if I knew what I did now. If Seungmin trusted him enough to be friends with him… I think I went a little overboard.”

Jisung smiled sadly. “You were right though. I don’t know him that well. But… I don’t think I should be talking about me right now. I hope you’re not planning on wearing _that_ to a fancy dinner meeting.”

Changbin let Jisung change the subject, and rolled his eyes. “It’s not going to be fancy, Jisung, its just a nice restaurant-”

“Nuh-uh, go get changed. Show me your next best options.”

The air felt lighter as Jisung began laughing again, Changbin coming out multiple times in mismatched outfits and hats that were really not appropriate for _any_ occasion. He had the time, and he was going to spend it on Jisung. He could go back to putting himself first in a few minutes, when he got into the yellow taxi waiting at the entrance of the hotel.

Jisung blew Changbin as the older grabbed his wallet from the dresser and left the room, to which he pulled a face, earning him another bout of laughter. Changbin smiled as he walked down the stairs, fidgeting with the collar black button-down Jisung had put him in, hoping the gold accessories weren’t too much of a contrast. Jisung had promised that they were perfect, but then, Jisung had a far more dramatic style than Changbin could even fathom pulling off. He could only hope.

He ended up going with dark blue straight leg jeans over the ripped black ones Jisung had offered; he had to draw the line somewhere, and that was where he had drawn it.

The taxi driver smiled as Changbin climbed in. “Seo Changbin?”

Changbin nodded, hoping his voice wasn’t as thick with nerves and exhaustion as it felt. He was sure the other two would be tired after the big day as well, but the taxi driver wasn’t aware of that. “Yup, that’s me. Did you get the address I sent through?”

The taxi driver pulled away from the curb before speaking, glancing back into the rear view mirror only after making sure the road ahead was clear. “Yes, II Terrazzino, right? It's a good place, good service from memory.”

Changbin nodded again, unsurely. “Yeah? I think that’s the one.”

After trying to spur conversation a few times, the driver seems to realise Changbin’s not the type for small talk. The crowded streets of Monte Carlo, now lit by warm streetlamps lining the road were no less busy at night, much to Changbin’s disappointment. In fact, they were arguably more noisy at night, now the creatures who hid during the day had found home in the clubs and neon building’s that seemed to replace the pristine white ones that were there during the day.

Changbin rested his head on the seatbelt, his eyes flickering down to his phone every now and again to see whether Seungmin had texted him. He had hoped to arrive first, in hopes to make sure Haewon left his boyfriend alone, but knowing Seungmin, he would be there far earlier than necessary. In fact, it was more likely that Haewon would be the one who was late, which was somewhat comforting. Changbin wondered whether she had changed as much as he and Seungmin had.

The restaurant was just as nice as Seungmin had described, all warm light, black detailing and red carpet. Changbin unbuckled in silence as the cab-driver pulled over, grabbing his jacket and tucking it under one arm as he opened the door to step out. 

He turned, sticking his head back into the cab once he was stable on the footpath in a way that caused his loose, black hair to tickle his forehead more than it was already. “Thank you for the ride, ma’am.”

She nodded with a smile. “It was my pleasure, Mr Seo. Wish Han luck for me.”

_Oh. So she_ had _recognised him._ Changbin recovered quickly. “I will. Have a good night.”

The glass doors seemed to be a staple for expensive buildings in Monaco considering how many he had opened since he had gotten here, but Changbin was thankful in this case because it meant he could locate Seungmin before he even got inside, meaning he looked as though they had communicated their table number before he got there.

He rolled his shoulders as he closed the door behind him, nodding politely to the waiter who had approached him and gesturing to where Seungmin was sitting. 

On second evaluation, Changbin’s fears had come true; Haewon was already there. His protective instincts kicked in as he walked over, hoping that she wasn’t still mad about, well, Seungmin essentially ghosting him for two years. 

Seungmin laughed lightly at something Haewon said, the smile on his face a comforting sight for Changbin. But that didn’t stop him from slipping a hand under Seungmin’s chin as he reached the table and pressing a kiss to his cheek before greeting Haewon with a quite clearly cautious smile. “Hello, you. Haewon! How are you?”

Seungmin flushed as Changbin slid an arm around his shoulders, and Haewon snorted in amusement. “Don’t worry, Seo, I left him in one piece. Relax.”

Changbin smiled at that, reassured now Seungmin was next to him happy and healthy. He shifted his hold to rest around Seungmin’s waist and edged closer, playfully narrowed his eyes. “You better have, I’d be completely useless without my baby.”

Seungmin shoved Changbin away at the sound of the nickname. “Ew, get off me, Changbin. I will not condone this behaviour.”

Changbin pouted as he was forced away from Seungmin’s warmth, but instead of whining, he sighed and greeted Haewon properly. 

She bet him to it, her gaze flicking amusedly between the unlikely couple. “Well, I see you losers haven’t changed a bit.”

Changbin leant back into his chair, smiling. “I’d like to think I’m a bit better than I was, but for the most part, I agree with that statement. How about you, Mrs Park? How have you been doing?”

Haewon rested her head in her hands with a smile, her dark, glossy hair tied up into a messy bun though Changbin could see new streaks of colour, something he knew was a recent addition. “I’m boring, really. I was just talking to Seungmin about our racers and the extended contract I made with Huang Industries to continue managing their son.”

Changbin nodded in recognition, intrigued. “Ah yeah! I saw Renjun down on the track today. Jisung said that Donghyuck would have gone and talked to him if he hadn’t stopped him.”

Seungmin hummed at the sound of Haechan’s name. “Ah, Donghyuck? As in the canadian one?”

Changbin and Haewon replied _yes_ in synchrony, before exchanging looks of disbelief and laughing.

Changbin held up a hand for her to high-five and Haewon, surprisingly, cooperated. She grinned. “I see we’re still in synch.”

“I’m not sure if that’s an entirely good thing. Wouldn’t want you figuring out Jisung and I’s final tactics.”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow at that, closing the gap between he and Changbin and activating his puppy eyes. “Plans? Changbinnie, you wouldn’t mind telling me, right? It would make me really happy.”

Changbin startled at the sudden change in Seungmin’s demeanour, used to being the one showing affection. Seungmin’s facade broke when he giggled at the surprise on Changbin’s face. “You’re cute, Changbin.”

Haewon paused from adjusting the cuffs of her deep red blouse to pull a face. “Hey, no PDA. No one wants to see you lovebirds flirting.”

Changbin glared at her. “Hey, don’t ruin the moment, he just called me _cute_.”

“Ah, I say that all the time… wait, I never tell you about how adorable you are?”

Changbin shook his head, disappointed in his senses for being so easily overwhelmed by Seungmin’s arm linked through his and the slight pout on the other lips. “No- no I’m pretty sure the last time you called me anything was ugly. I know you were joking though!”

Seungmin’s face fell. “Oh. I’m sorry, Changbin. I think you’re very pretty.”

Changbin looked desperately at Haewon for help. “Did you drug him? Has he consumed any alcohol this evening?”

Haewon, who was studying Seungmin amusedly shook her head. “Nah, I think he’s just tired. Minho’s been difficult recently, apparently, and this was a big day for all of us, I guess.”

Seungmin turned his attention to Haewon as she mentioned Minho. “Hey, this isn’t Minho’s fault. I just need to sleep earlier tonight. It’s okay, Changbin, I’m fine.”

Changbin continued to study him skeptically until a woman in a tuxedo approached their table and placed a few dishes in the centre. Seungmin immediately perked up, and Changbin couldn’t help but smile as his boyfriend began chattering animatedly about each dish he had selected. Haewon snorted as Seungmin enunciated the foreign words carefully, but to Changbin, he sounded fluent. Though, he might just be saying that because Seungmin’s eyeshadow made his pretty eyes look even bigger, and his pink lips twisted up into a bright smile when he earned laughter, or maybe even the way his soft brown hair hung in his eyes as he rolled up the sleeves of his sweater to serve Changbin his share of the food. 

After a few minutes of conversation, Haewon finally grew tired of Changbin staring dreamily at Seungmin’s face and decided to do something about it. Seungmin’s speaking trailed off as Haewon reached across the table and swiped Changbin’s hand from where it had been propping up his head. Changbin’s eyes widened as he caught himself, before proceeding to narrow his eyes. “What was _that_ for?”

Haewon rolled her eyes. “You’re whipped, man. But I think you should probably eat something before I eat it all.”

Changbin blinked as he realised he still hadn’t put any food in his mouth, and Seungmin’s eyes darted worriedly to his full plate. He lowered his voice. “Are you okay, Changbin? Do you want something else?”

Changbin’s cheeks were turning pink and he could only hope that the soft yellow light from the lamps scattered around the restaurant were hiding them. He quickly raised his hands. “No! No, this is fine, I was just… distracted, is all.”

Haewon forked another mouthful of pasta between her lips, trying to hide her smile. Man, she had missed these two.

Changbin managed to exercise a certain amount of self-control throughout the meal, only staring at Seungmin on the rare occasion that he felt Seungmin looking back. Haewon had many interesting stories to share about her time in China, and Changbin quickly came to terms with how much time had passed since the manager camp. It felt like centuries ago that they had leaped off the pier together but also as though it had only been yesterday. 

Seungmin had explained his actions over the past two years to Haewon before Changbin arrived, meaning that although the time in between was still a sensitive topic, Haewon seemed to have mostly forgiven him. Changbin really couldn’t have been happier. Well, maybe if Jisung was happy too.

As the waiter walked away with their payment and a few empty plates, Haewon paused her story and glanced down at the expensive looking rose-gold watch on her wrist. “... and then Renjun fully jumped that guy- it’s _eleven o’clock!?_ Where did the time go?”

Seungmin, who by now had completely folded his tired body into Changbin’s side, straightened with a start. “Eleven?!”

Changbin felt his happiness drain quickly as Seungmin pulled away, reality swamping back into his mind. “Oh, god, really?”

_Up tomorrow at 5 for Jisung’s training, follow through to 7, manager meeting at 10-_

Seungmin grabbed his phone from the table gently, as though not to disturb what used to be a peaceful atmosphere with an aggressive action. “Oh my goodness, if it’s eleven my cab was supposed to be here an hour ago… can I step outside for a minute?”

Haewon nodded. “Yeah, I’ll do the same, except I’m not organised so I didn’t even call one in the first place.”

As Seungmin slid out of the seat, Changbin tried to remember whether he had given a pick up time to the cab driver. Seungmin turned back as he sensed Changbin's uncertainty, priortising Changbin above himself without hesitation. He offered a hand, his brows pulled together. “Have you got a ride back, Binnie? Or you want to catch one with me?”

Changbin’s head tilted upwards at the sound of the offer, and the worries in his head dimmed. He was being silly because he was tired. He had had late nights before and still gotten up and functioned as he should. He’d just have to get tons of sleep when they get back home to make up for it. 

He slipped his hand into Seungmin’s as he stood, a tired but happy smile on his face as he replied. “Catching a ride back with you sounds good.”

Seungmin’s somewhat worried face changes at that, and he looks away shyly for a moment, before regaining his confidence. “Okay. Well, lets go call a cab then.”

The night air was an inviting temperature now; no longer warm from the day but also not too cold. A good balance. 

Changbin waved to Haewon as she blew them a kiss before sliding into her bright yellow escort and driving away, joining the slowly lessening stream of cars driving down the streets of Monte Carlo. Seungmin was preoccupied with the phone call and with his other free hand connected with Changbin’s, he trusted Changbin to farewell their friend with the promise of seeing each other again before they returned home.

Changbin smiled faintly as Haewon’s car disappeared, before using the hand he had waved with to brush his hair from his face, exposing his forehead to the gentle breeze. Seungmin hung up, and upon seeing Changbin fixing his hair, he leant over to do it for him. Changbin’s breath caught as the man holding his hand ran his other through his hair. Seungmin’s face was inches from his own, only he wasn’t focused on Changbin’s lips. But Changbin was focused on his.

“Min?”

Seungmin lowered his hand before meeting Changbin’s gaze, his eyes widening in surprise. He stepped back, raising a hand to his mouth as he giggled nervously. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t notice- o-.”

Great, now Seungmin’s adorable laughter was there to assault him as well. Changbin had had just about enough of his unbearably perfect boyfriend for one night.

_Just about_ _enough_.

Changbin lifted his free hand to slip around the collar of Seungmin’s sweater. He murmured a few words before pulling him in. “What are you apologising for?”

Seungmin didn’t hesitate to return the kiss, his hands finding their way back to Changbin’s hair, where Changbin’s own settled on his waist. It was a slow kiss, something that was a by-product of Changbin’s long anticipation. And boy was he glad he waited. 

Seungmin’s lips were just as soft as his appearance and tasted like the red wine, an awful drink in Changbin’s opinion but he really didn’t mind because _holy heck_.

When Changbin finally pulled back, his heart was close to exploding. Seungmin’s lips remained parted for a few seconds as he regulated his breathing, before stretching into a rare smile. Changbin couldn’t believe that he was the reason for it. 

Seungmin fiddled with Changbin’s earrings, unwilling to move away now that they were connected. “Where did that come from, huh?”

Changbin smiled, squeezing Seungmin’s hips in a way that made the other squirm. “Do you not want me to kiss you?”

Seungmin cupped his face, pressing a brief kiss to Changbin’s nose as he remained amused despite Changbin's playful touch. “You know what I mean, Seo.”

Changbin’s heart really couldn’t take much more of hiding his intense feelings. So he just spoke. “I fucking love you, Min.”

Seungmin’s eyes widened, his lips parting again as though the air had been knocked from his lungs. And then he pulled Changbin back into another kiss, speaking as soon as they separated again. “I love you too. And I’m pretty sure I always will, Changbin.”

Changbin couldn’t stop smiling the entire way back, and he certainly didn’t keep his hands to himself, no matter how many strange looks the cab driver gave them. He was so, so lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh  
> seungbin are so fluffy my heart is going to comBUST  
> due to a new development idea i had the next chapter will be quite short but hopefully still impactful hahaa  
> hope you guys enjoyed the chapter despite the lack of minsung and ill see you again soon!!
> 
> follow me on instagram: @oh_cxnada !!


	24. To Forgive And... Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ring. Ring. Ring-

_ Ring. Ring. Ring- _

Minho was still awake when his phone rang at 10 to midnight, as despite his body was completely drained of all energy due to polesitters, his mind was still active, unable to fall asleep. 

The event hadn’t gone the way Minho had planned at all, his placing in sixth safe, but not safe enough. If he hadn’t let his focus slip towards the end, from the track to a particular racer in red, he could have landed in fourth. He had been doing well at blocking thoughts of Jisung from his head, but the slip up, the fleeting image of Jisung completely unphased by their splitting of ways had been enough to lose Minho not only his higher placing but also the will to finish the race gracefully. 

Luckily his awful race engineer was back and made snide comments until he was so frustrated he passed Jordan right before the finish to land sixth. 

Jeongin’s energy after the race had not been contagious, but it was still nice to see his old friend so happy to be in his career path, even if Jeongin’s position was not looking optimistic, coming in twentieth out of the thirty racers on the track. But unlike Minho, Jeongin didn’t seem to mind so much. He was happy to be there. 

Jisung had glanced at him. Minho knew it because he had been looking back. But then Jisung looked away again, and although he appeared to be just as weary as Minho, the older simply didn’t know whether Jisung was even affected by the longing Minho felt in his own chest.

Minho kind of hoped it was Hyunjin calling. He would do anything to have his best friend by his side right now, but the chances were low, with the remainder of Minho’s funding wrapped up in transport costs and Hyunjin’s own money long drained by the costs of being a student. Unless some sort of miracle occurred, Minho was just going to have to go without Hyunjin’s infamous hugs for the time being. But Hyunjin could still give advice through the phone, hopefully.

Minho lazily reached for his phone, nearly knocking his empty glass from the table in the dark. Cursing when his hand couldn’t seem to find it, Minho sat up slowly and felt along the wall for a light switch. By the time he had found his phone, the call had been missed, but he didn’t have time to check who had called before the call began again. 

_ Ring. Ring. Ring- _

Minho paused from rubbing his eyes when he startled at the caller ID. He answered immediately after the second ring. “Han?”

There was a rustling on the other side of the phone, fabric against fabric, and then a thud noise before Jisung answered. “ _ Uh, Minho! Hi!” _

Minho almost smiled. They hadn’t spoken for a while, yet it still felt so natural to hear Jisung’s voice, that it was almost like nothing had even happened. But something had. Minho's almost smile faded. "Why'd you call?”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. “ _ Oh! Uh, talk? I mean- uh, I wanted to talk to you _ .

It was unfair that even Jisung’s stutters were endearing. “Well, okay. You’ve got me. Now what?”

“ _ To be honest, I don’t really know where to start. I didn’t plan this far. Uh… I’m sorry. For suggesting the pause and stuff. I’ve… I’ve missed you. A lot.” _

Minho's heart reacted, a glowing, warm pinprick of hope spreading across his chest. Maybe Jisung really had missed him just as much as he had missed Jisung. "Oh… I've missed you too, Jisung.”

“ _ I-I hurt you. I know I did, and it keeps happening cause I never pay close enough attention to thers. I’m still learning.” _

Jisung  _ had  _ hurt him. The fact that he didn’t trust him, had put his career first without even a day to think about it; that  _ hurt _ . Sure, the logic added up, but it still cut Minho deep that the boy he liked- no,  _ loved _ had been so quick to agree to not seeing him for weeks. To going back to being competitors even though they were on the same team.

But Jisung was still learning, as he said. Learning about competitions, learning about himself, learning about love. Minho understood. He knew how it felt. 

“ _ But I’m- I’m really, really sorry, Minho. I hope you can forgive me for… pushing you away. I’m just panicking, you know? World Championships and all that.” _

Minho smiled, the fingers that weren’t wrapped tightly around his phone twisting the corner of his gray t-shirt, nervous and excited at the same time. “Yeah, I get it.”

_ “Oh, thank god, I’m so glad. Man, hearing your voice is really nice, you know that? Sorry, I’m digressing, what was I going to say? Oh, uh, you wanna… get ramyeon after Semis or something?” _

It took a moment to try to comprehend the words all at once. It seemed almost surreal, the idea of going on a normal date after so much had happened and so much was yet to come. But it was Han Jisung we were talking about here. Of course it seems out of the ordinary. 

“I think that sounds nice. Thank you... thank you for calling.”

Jisung laughed prettily and Minho almost sighed with relief. It felt so good to hear the sound again, even if it was over a phone rather than in person. He could still imagine Jisung’s big eyes and nose scrunched up as he laughed, looking the part of the angel he sounded even if they weren’t as close as Minho would have liked. “ _ It was my pleasure, honestly. I look forward to our date, darling.” _

He grimaced, hoping that Jisung could hear it through the phone. “Yeah, you aren’t calling me that.”

Jisung whined but was interrupted by another random noise on his end of the line, only this time, it sounded less like a body falling off a bed and more like a door opening. Jisung’s voice was longing as he spoke again. “ _ I have to go, sorry, Changbin got back and we need to sleep. See you at Semi Finals unless our schedules collide?” _

Minho bit his lip. “See you, Jisung.”

Then his phone beeped, and Minho was alone again to ponder the means of his very existence. He switched out the lights and snuggled back into his blankets as his mind drifted.

These butterflies, the uncontrollable smile that remained on his face at the thought of going on a proper date, the idea of being able to even  _ talk _ to him after days of turmoil made Minho realise that the crush he had developed the first time he argued with the rookie had grown at an untraceable rate. He couldn’t exactly remember when he had become so entertained, so happy to be Jisung’s presence, but he certainly was now.

But the prospect of these feelings being returned didn’t stop Minho’s more cynical side from butting its head in, as it always did.

_ He doesn’t even really know what he did wrong, does he?  _

_ Does he even like you, Minho? _

Minho shook his head, before exhaling and raising both of his arms to run through his fingers through his messy hair. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the thoughts from existence. 

Jisung was young, fresh-eyed and confident. It was going to take a little time to get used to, considering the adamant dislike for all rookies Minho had withheld all of these years, but Minho needed to be open to change, and compromise. He needed to have a proper talk with Jisung, in person, and that isn’t really an option with the Semi Finals only a few days away. 

So Minho would wait. He wasn’t sure how easy that would be, with the idea of a ramyeon lunch with the sun himself spilling energy into his tired body, but he thinks he can do it. He can wait for Han Jisung.

Minho sighed, a happy smile on his face as he lay in the now comfortable darkness of the lukewarm hotel room. 

Then Seungmin turned the lights on and Minho fell off his bed, but no one  _ really _ needs to know that, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so  
> the boys have talked it out ((((:  
> this chapter is supremely short, but i promise the next one will, without a doubt, be much, much longer!!  
> i think i may even wait until i finish the next two chapters to post, because i don't really wanna leave you guys on a cliffhanger half way through semi finals considering the... eveNts that take place
> 
> hope you guys enjoyed the update and look forward to seeing you guys next time!! stay safe <3
> 
> ~~~~~  
> join the little crowd we have on instagram: oh_cxnada for exclusive content such as me freaking out about skz, my favourite comebacks of the month and occasional q & a sessions,,,, all of this accompanied rarely by fic related news~~


	25. All Eyes on the Boy in Red: Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Helloooo America! I hope you all are doing well at home, as I must say, we are certainly enjoying ourselves here in Monte Carlo! I’m Jae Park, this is Melody Walters and we will be your hosts for Monaco Grand Prix Semi Finals!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, its been a while haha

_ 1 HOUR TILL GREEN LIGHT _

The sky is blue, clear of stray clouds, and more pigmented than even America’s monster rookie’s car. Though, the story may be different when the thirty cars are down on the track, a collection of vibrant shades of the rainbow that looked like a set of marbles from the drone shot above.

The few stadium stands that fit in between the humongous glass buildings at the coastline track were packed to the brim with fans from all over the world, excited cheers ringing out as each of the country's respective MC’s started their live broadcasts. 

It meant that the countdown was beginning; it was only an hour before the semi-finalists of the Monaco Grand Prix were to race for their spot in the finals. 

“Helloooo America! I hope you all are doing well at home, as I must say, we are certainly enjoying ourselves here in Monte Carlo! I’m Jae Park, this is Melody Walters and we will be your hosts for the event! Wow, would you look at that track, Melody? I wouldn’t be opposed to racing it myself!”

The woman next to Jae rolled her eyes, adjusting the collar of her suit jacket before reading from the cards in front of her. “In your dreams. As Jae said, the atmosphere here in Monte Carlo is unbeatable, but I’m not surprised; I couldn’t expect any less from the 79th Monaco Grand Prix. Today, our four infamous representatives will be fighting alongside the world’s best for the top 10 spots that will take them through to finals, completing a total of 78 laps at speeds of up to 200mph.”

Jae picked up where Melody left off, clearly just as excited as the fans in the stands below the building. “This year, our representatives are joined by the likes of Prix veterans, Canada’s Liam Mercado and Lee Donghyuck and Germany’s Tobias Schneider, as well as rising stars such as Korea’s Lee Jeno and China’s Huang Renjun. It certainly is going to be one hell of a race for those top spots.”

Melody shuffled her cards before reading the results from pole sitters with a flashy grin. “Lucky for us, all four of our representatives performed exceptionally well in pole sitters, with Lee Felix in 10th, Jordan Allen’s in 7th, Lee Know in 6th and Han Jisung, as usual, in 1st. I must say, our lineup is very promising, right Jae?”

Jae nodded vigorously only to earn a jab in the ribs that reminded him of his cue cards in the plastic tray in front of him. He cleared his throat embarrassedly and continued. “You’re right about that, Melody! Our representatives this year are a mixed bunch, with Lee Felix, a rising Australian rookie who filled in for California and has made it to the Prix after only two years of racing in the same group as Jordan Allens, who is here representing America at the Prix for the second time with another two years under his belt. I, personally, am extremely happy to see him back out on the track after his injury last fall, and faster than ever!”

As the discussion went on about Felix and Jordan, photos from advertisements flashed onto the American billboard, as well as on screens in the living rooms of houses all around America and no doubt Australia as well. 

Melody picked up where Jae left off. “I’m sure I’m not the only one who agrees with Jae. Now, I’m sure many of you recognise that silver tent down by the track, but are struggling to put a name to it. I’ll save you from searching through your distant memories and reintroduce America’s ice prince, Lee Know. You all remember him, right? Known for his unbeatable records all around America, he’s been in the running for the Monaco Grand Prix for… four years now, but after his accident last year, his name disappeared from every chart. Yet somehow, he’s raced his way back into American’s representative team. His pretty face sure was missed, wasn’t it, America?”

Jae squinted at the cards Melody was reading off, though before he could question the professionalism of the final comment he was egged on by someone behind the camera. “Oh- uh, well, I agree. Though, it would probably do him some favours to smile once in a while…”

“Haha, you’re so funny, Jae. Anyway, I’m looking forward to seeing Know recovering from his fall from grace; we love a dark horse here in Monaco. Well, speaking of a dark horse, we’ll flip the topic entirely and talk about our golden star, our monster rookie, Han Jisung. Now, it’s no secret that Han Jisung is America’s best racer since Rocky Matthews, with a flawless track record; he’s won  _ every single race _ he’s been in since his debut at the start of the year. It really is going to be all eyes on the boy in red!”

Talking about Jisung seems to come easier to the hosts, but it soon becomes evident that Jisung himself wasn’t the reason they wanted to talk about his bright red car and the number  _ 9 _ .

Jae edged forward, his dark blonde hair falling into his eyes as he places his prompter cards back in the tray with a flourish. “I must say, Han’s records are phenomenal; it’s like he’s not even human. Every  _ single  _ race? The only other person I know who even comes close to that is his mentor, Australian racer Christopher Bang. According to an interview with XXX XXXX, Han met him when he first arrived in America through a friend, and after going to a social race with Han, Bang saw potential, and well, the rest is history! I doubt we would even have a monster rookie if it weren’t for Bang!”

Melody’s cheeks broadened as she forced another smile towards the camera. “Absolutely! Where would we be without Christopher Bang? Well, America, now that you know the lineup, be sure to let us know who  _ you’re  _ looking forward to on the AFO website in the next hour and be in to win a ticket to the finals next week!”

“That’s it from us for now, America! Be sure to tune back in in about 30 minutes for the pre-race interviews with our representatives and find out who  _ they’re  _ worried about on the track today! See you soon!”

As soon as Jae finished reading the outro, the American billboards down the main strip of the track reverted to advertisements for various supporting brands, a sight shared by not only those watching from home but also Han Jisung as he paced back and forth in front of Changbin’s desk. He gritted his teeth as the screen changed. The countdown had started, and Jisung was nervous. 

And the monster rookie wasn't the only one who felt that way.

  
  


_ 30 MINUTES TILL GREEN LIGHT _

The first camera team, the one sent for Felix’s tent, was significantly smaller than the one sighted heading towards the red structure at the end, but Felix didn’t feel any less uncomfortable as various unnamed individuals invaded the room to capture his vulnerable state on camera.

Felix really,  _ really _ wanted to believe that he was going to do well today, but even his sunshine-like demeanour wasn’t strong enough to protect him from fears he had had since the beginning. He  _ knew _ he wasn’t quite at Monaco level yet; it was honestly remarkable he was even standing in a tent on the most infamous race strip in Europe. 

As an official begins to discuss how the interview will run with Maya, who has miraculously appeared at Felix’s side, his hands roll into determined fists.  _ No. I earned my spot here. And I’m going to race my hardest. _

_ Felix Lee can do it. _

“Okay, uh, Mr. Lee? Are you ready to go?”

Felix snapped back to attention, a smile on his face. He raised a hand to his peach coloured hair. “I don’t know… is my hair looking good?”

The man in basic formal attire that Felix presumed was the interviewer laughed. “Absolutely.”

Felix’s heart-shaped smile stretched wider. “Well, let’s go then!”

Just like that, the dark blue tent was encased with quiet, or about as quiet as an active workshop can be, with his technical team walking behind where Felix and Maya were standing carrying last-minute parts and cleaning equipment from the supply box to the car sitting in the pits. At least it was quiet enough for Felix to hear the questions. It probably wouldn’t have been all that professional if he had to ask the interviewer to repeat himself considering the time crunch. 

“...well, we all love an underdog! Next question… What has been your favourite part of the AFO process so far? What’s it like being in Monaco for the first time?”

Felix subconsciously adjusted the collar of his racing suit as he considered the question. “Hmm… I gotta say, the flight over was certainly a great experience. AFO was very accommodating… oh, and I’ve been making the most of the food budget, that’s for sure!’

The man nodded eagerly, apparently sharing Felix’s opinion on the food in Monaco. “Ah yes! My-” he received a sharp look from the woman holding the mic, “Oh right, we’re running out of time! Can you believe how close we are to the end of the Prix? I certainly hope to see you in the Finals… What kind of stunts are you planning on trying out to get into the top 10?”

Felix blanked for a moment. Right, he was meant to have  _ strategies _ . He had spent so much time just trying to keep up with the others in practice laps that he hadn’t tested out many new maneuvers. He was going to have to hope the things he had learnt in his racing programme would be enough. 

Maya recognised the hesitancy in Felix’s natural smile and decided she could step in with an exaggeration, just this once. Her smile was somewhat forced, but she could only hope that the audience wouldn’t be able to see through the facade to figure out just how nervous she was for her racer. 

Felix licked his lips and began to speak at the same time as Maya but quickly quietened when he heard what she was saying. 

“I assure you, our Californian representative here is a force to be reckoned with… but we can’t say too much! Just- uh…. Keep an eye out for him!”

The interviewer, thankfully, didn’t seem too phased about the vague answer, simply moving straight to the outro after a few comments about the ‘mysterious nature’ of Maya’s words. Felix breathed out a sigh of relief and slumped onto Maya after the camera crew began to make their way out of the tent. Maya stiffened, ready to push him off like she normally did, but changed her mind, knowing Felix would be just as nervous as she was, if not more so.

She turned slightly, dragging Felix into the shade of the tent before hugging him properly. Felix let out a squeak of surprise but smiled widely when he realised she wasn’t trying to kill him like usual. He happily hugged her back.

Deciding ten seconds was long enough, Maya pulled away, rubbing the back of her neck. “You ready, Felix?”

Felix pouted as she pulled away, but his expression sobered at her words. The chaos around them seemed to quiet as Felix’s aura turned fiery. “Let’s tear up that track.”

. . . 

To say Minho was in a bad mood was an understatement. Even Seungmin was a little worried about approaching him and although he had to say he preferred irritable-pre race Lee Minho to the sad Minho from a few days before, Seungmin  _ really _ wished Minho could just be happy.

It happened for while there, when he and Jisung were inseparable, but to Seungmin’s knowledge, they hadn’t met up since. Minho was better though.

Agitated right now, but better.

Seungmin was not-so-inconspicuously peeking over the tablet screens by his desk to study Minho as the older cursed at the sipper of his suit for getting caught on the material of his undergarment when there was a warning from the pits that the camera crew was making it's way down.

Seungmin blinked in alarm at the messenger, one of the lead mechanics in a gray suit that didn’t flatter his body the way silver always flattered Minho’s, before looking back to where Minho had apparently given up on his suit and was now glaring at thin air, slumped into his uncomfortable plastic chair with a clenched jaw.  _ Oh no. _

Minho being irritable and on edge before a race was a given; or at least, it was before the crash. Apparently, it was coming back now, which made sense considering the champion inside Lee Minho was back in business. The problem is that it has been so long since Minho has acted this way that Seungmin has forgotten how to get him to force a smile for the cameras. 

And now, he had thirty seconds to do so. 

Seungmin stood up instantly and slid around his desk, adjusting his glasses as he did so to ensure they didn’t fall to the ground. Minho barely flinched as Seungmin waved a hand in front of his face, his eyes shifting slowly to Seungmin’s face before narrowing at the awkward expression.

He bit out his words with a tone that he reserves for only the most agitating humans, namely Hyunjin. “What do you want now, Seungmin?”

He’s not exactly going to try the nice guy approach  _ now _ . Seungmin frowned and placed a hand on the shoulder of Minho’s half-zipped race suit. He used his other hand to zip it up the rest of the way as he scolded Minho.  _ Perfect. Condescending  _ and  _ productive _ . “I want you to pull yourself together _ this instant _ , or your pre-race tantrum will be broadcasted on national television.”

Minho shrugged Seungmin’s hand off of his shoulder, before standing up. It would have been more intimidating if he was taller than Seungmin, but considering Minho also had the disadvantage of Seungmin knowing he was harmless, all ice no bite, he never really stood a chance of scaring him. He tried to rely on his words instead. “Well… well…”

Yeah, Minho wasn’t all that good with words. He’d leave that to Jisung.

At the thought of Jisung, Minho was immediately distracted, his frown softening slightly and his sentence now completely forgotten. 

Minho wondered how Han was doing… maybe he should go and see him. It had been too long since he had seen him, and considering the last time they had talked properly was over a phone call apology, they were well overdue for a proper conversation. Minho couldn’t wait; in all honesty, he had begun to anticipate the ramen date so much that he had completely lost track of time, and all of a sudden he was on the track at the Semi-Finals of the Monaco Grand Prix and completely mentally unprepared. 

It was messy, especially considering he could be very easily knocked out today. And then he would be stuck here in Monaco. Wallowing in his failure without Hyunjin here to kick his ass into gear and struggling to accept the fact that he had lost his reputation for good. 

It wasn’t fun to think about it. 

But at least he had Jisung back again.  _ Even if he doesn’t yet love me the way I love him. _

“Uh… Know? Planning on finishing that sentence?”

Minho blinked himself back to the present and realised he was still inches away from Seungmin’s face, which was covered by a smug smirk. Ah. Right. He was mad. 

Minho pulled away half-heartedly with an eye roll, figuring he should stick to the basics. You couldn’t go wrong with a classic eye-roll.

Seungmin released the breath he had been holding, very glad he hadn’t pissed off Minho to the point of no return. An agitated Minho would be easier to explain to the cameras than a split lip.

As Minho wandered away from Seungmin’s failed scolding, approaching his friend’s desk instead, the camera crew made their much-anticipated entrance into the tent looking just about as excited as the crowds in the stands were. Seungmin could only imagine what having that much energy must be like.

The interviewer scanned the inside of the silver tent with curiosity before her eyes settled on Seungmin and a smile grew. She waltzed in uninvited and extended a hand towards the wide-eyed manager. “Kim Seungmin, right? Where is- ah, Lee Know! Are you ready?”

Seungmin shook her hand before turning around to find Minho was  _ sitting on his desk _ and  _ drinking his water _ . Minho swallowed, wiping the back of his mouth with his arm before replying with lazy eyes and a bored tone. “Sure, let's do it.”

Seungmin grit his teeth, and judging by the way Minho purposefully knocked a few papers to the floor as he slipped off and the wink he sent Seungmin’s way as he did so, he knew exactly what he was doing.

Okay. Maybe irritable-pre race Minho was worse than he thought.

It took only a few minutes before they received word to start, presumably a message saying that Jordan’s interview was over and that it was Minho’s turn to steal the stage. Seungmin bit his lip. He hoped Minho was just messing around.

As Minho followed directions on where to stand, Seungmin made worried eye contact. 

_ I’m sorry. Are you actually mad? _

Minho shook his head, a small, tense smile on his lips and his eyes speaking volumes.

_ Don’t worry too much, Seungmin. I’ll be fine. _

Seungmin smiled slightly as well, before standing to the side. 

The camera director signed a countdown with her hands, and the interviewer seemed well-practiced, her timing perfectly in line with the beginning of the streaming. 

“You’re right about that one, Jae! Here, we have the man right here with us now! Hey, Lee Know!”

Minho held his hands behind his back, a surprisingly polite position for him to obtain considering only minutes ago he had been seated on Seungmin’s desk, but Seungmin certainly wasn’t complaining. He nodded in response to the greeting.

“So, what about it then, Know? We’re all pleasantly surprised to see you out on the track again but we’re curious… where did this sudden winning streak come from, after such a long year?”

Minho didn’t let himself appear caught off guard by the immediately prying question, instead allowing a cool expression to overcome his face.  _ Calm. Icy, but not rude.  _ Seungmin held his breath, hoping he was interpreting it right. 

“I suppose I woke up at the American Preliminaries. There was something different about that race and that feeling hasn’t changed. I was never really gone.”

The interviewer laughed, pulling the mic back to her mouth before speaking her thoughts on the matter. “I mean, you’re right about that. You did scare us for a second there! We thought you were gone for good… what have you been doing recently to get back to the level you were at?”

Minho forced out a laugh. “Well, I’ve been racing with America’s best. It’s certainly helped put things into perspective.”

Seungmin was surprised at how well Minho was taking all these questions. It had been a long time since they had been interviewed properly for an event, and Minho was answering far more politely than he used to. Sure, he still wasn’t answering in-depth, but baby steps.

“Ah yes, America’s best! I’m gonna be honest, Know, you don’t strike me as an eager participant in team events. How has working with rookies like Lee and Han been for you?”

Seungmin froze at the sound of Jisung’s name. Minho had been developing a habit, something that came hand in hand with his complete infatuation, of softening entirely whenever Jisung was brought into a conversation. Although all of the good people around Minho didn't mind his love for his boyfriend, it is safe to assume that AFO wouldn't be quite so respectful.

Minho continued, unphased. “It’s certainly a new experience for me, but I’ve enjoyed getting to know the American team. All three of them are talented racers and good people.”

Seungmin breathed a sigh of relief, never feeling happier to see Minho’s emotionless camera face in his entire career.

The interviewer quickly realised that no matter how many times she prompted Minho, his answers were going to be blunt and to the point. By the time the questions ran out, they still had a minute left to fill with small talk; Minho’s greatest weakness.

The interviewer, however, continued as though she was still reading from a script. “So… do you think you’ll ever beat your previous record times, the ones for the American Preliminaries back in 20XX?”

Minho processed her words for a moment before narrowing his eyes slightly. Seungmin swallowed.  _ What is he going to say this time? _

“Will I ever be as good as I was?”

It was the official’s turn to falter this time, but out of either practice or just raw improvisation skills quickly managed to reinforce her smile despite the accusing nature of Minho’s words. “Well, that’s one way of putting it, I suppose!”

“Then, of course. If I have to win this event just to prove it, I will.”

The entire camera crew ate up Minho’s competitive words, the woman beside the cameraman offering Minho a pair of thumbs-ups that he obviously ignored. Seungmin, however, frowned from where he had stationed himself away from the scene. Minho hadn’t really talked about his sudden climb up the ranks with Seungmin yet; Seungmin had simply put it down to Jisung’s arrival (originally he blamed Jisung for Minho’s increased motivation because he was America’s new shining star, but now he blamed him for giving Minho the kind of love the other had been avoiding for many years). But the way Minho said ‘he would win to prove it’ made Seungmin a little worried that the reason Minho hadn’t talked to him about it was that Minho was concerned, for once, about the opinion of the public.

There was a chance he wanted them to believe in him the same way they used to because he no longer believed in himself. 

Or maybe Minho was just getting sick of everyone writing him off as a fallen star. Now  _ that _ sounded like Minho. 

Seungmin folded his arms nervously as the cameras finally shut off. Soon enough, the cameras had left the tent, leaving them alone; it was just Seungmin, Minho, and about fifteen frantic technicians still trying to fix the imperfections in the new steering system in the little time they had left.

Minho dusted his hands off, before meeting Seungmin’s contemplative gaze. 

“What?”

Seungmin tensed, trying to think of how to approach the question but ultimately deciding against asking. Now wasn’t the right time for a heart to heart.

He shrugged. “Nothing. You spoke well.”

Minho seemed shocked for a second before a small, pleased smile settled on his face. He raised a hand to his hair, playing with the dark strands of his fringe as he walked away from the compliment, back to Seungmin’s desk. “Of course.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes.

. . .

Jisung was nervous.

If it were anyone else, this would make complete sense. But this is Han Jisung we’re talking about.

Jisung doesn’t get nervous before races; he’s pretty well known by his crew for his laid back approach to prepping because although Jisung exhibits anxious behaviours pretty often, racing is his safe place. He doesn’t get nervous because racing is what he does best.

But he’s nervous today, and Jisung is hoping he’s hiding it better than he thinks he is.

“Hey, need help? No? Nah, it’s fine I’ll just… wait.”

Jisung slunk back into the red tent after a few attempts at involving himself with the technicians on the track, only lifting his eyes from his shaky knees to glance mournfully over his shoulder at his car. 

Jeongyeon, one of the new crew members Changbin hired during the middle of the year, walked past Jisung holding a single sheet of paper covered in jargon Jisung wasn’t educated in and headed directly towards Changbin’s desk. Jisung tried to smile at her as she breezed past but to no avail. After being ignored again, he decided it might be better for the uneasy feeling in his stomach if he sat down next to Changbin and just stayed put. 

“I think we’re done, Chief.  _ 9 _ should last at least 30 minutes before the first pit for fuel and  _ maybe  _ a tire change, depending on how conditioned the track is and whether Jisung wants to push it. If I’m honest, I don’t think he’ll need to, but if he does… you know.”

_ Jisung will win. There’s no doubt about it. _

Changbin glanced up from the monitor on his desk, his red jacket rustling as he nodded along to Jeongyeon’s report and eased the paper from her hand before he replied. “Okay, thank you. You can tell the crew to stand by, I got a call from Seung- from a source saying that AFO interviewers are on their way here right now.”

Jeongyeon didn’t notice Changbin correcting himself, simply nodding in acknowledgement and heading back outside. Jisung wished he was as calm as she was, but currently, he wasn’t even sure if he could sit down properly without missing and falling to the floor. 

Changbin scanned the paper in his hand briefly before sensing Jisung sitting down a few meters away and immediately recognising something off. He flicked his hair to the side so that he could study Jisung, who was now tapping his foot in a disjointed rhythm on the cool concrete beneath them. 

“You good, Sung?”

Jisung’s gaze snapped up, his anxious deep brown eyes only just visible beneath his fringe, something that was, again, uncharacteristic of Jisung, who had always made a habit of shoving his hair backward and out of his face whenever he had the chance. He scrambled to reply after recognising the concerned look in Changbin’s gaze. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. Just…. Nervous. Which is weird, yeah?”

Changbin set down the papers and squinted at Jisung. “Well, for you, I guess. But it’s normal to feel anxious, Jisung, especially before such an important event… is there anything I can do to help?”

Jisung shook his head. “I guess you’re right and… not really. Not unless you can guarantee a win?”

Changbin laughed. “Sorry, no can do. But I think you have that under control, monster rookie.”

_ Jisung will win. He’s the monster rookie, how could he not? _

It felt strange, that Changbin’s words of kindness were ineffective in the moments Jisung needed them most. “Yeah.”

Changbin caught uncertainty in Jisung’s usual tone and he frowned, finally pausing to properly study the younger. Jisung had his hands clasped over the tabletop, his hair messy as he fiddled with the darker gold callouses on his palms. His knees bounced despite the fact Changbin knew it would be incredibly hard to do so in a suit like Jisung’s. It barely allowed for comfortable walking, let alone fidgeting the way Jisung was.

So, clearly, Jisung was nervous. But why… now? 

Changbin cleared his throat. “Jisung? Are you nervous because of what happened at pole sitters? It really was just because you were distracted, Sung, you’ll definitely race well today. I know you will. And Chan-”

_ Everyone believes you’ll win, Jisung. You’re perfect, just like Chan. _

Jisung whipped his head up, his jaw clenched to stop himself from snapping. “Thanks, Changbin. Really. I think I need some air, can you come and get me when the interviewers get here?”

Jisung stood up before Changbin could even answer, making his way towards the back of the tent with his head down and his chest compressing. He had to get out of this tent and think properly, try and figure out why he was suddenly so sensitive. 

Changbin flinched as Jisung stood abruptly, but as soon as he got over the shock he was on his feet as well. His fingers wrapped around Jisung’s wrist and the younger almost immediately spun to face him, his eyes even more nervous now that he was trapped. Changbin recognised the emotion and released Jisung before apologising under his breath. “Sorry, sorry. What’s going on, Jisung? I think this is a little more than nerves.”

Jisung glanced around Changbin’s shoulder, to where the oblivious team members were collecting stray tools and putting them in their place, out of the way for when the race began. He doesn’t even know what’s wrong with him, so how is he supposed to explain it to Changbin?

“I-uh… I’m just worried that if I lose, people will be… upset. You know, like, let down. All the reporters and shit, they always kinda, you know, talk to me as though I won’t ever be more than Chan’s student and I want to change their minds and make Chan proud but if I lose everyone will be sad, and I don’t know- I just don’t know if I can win, you know-”

Changbin’s eyes widened, and he braced Jisung as the younger began shaking. “Woah, woah, woah. Jisung, kid, why didn’t you tell me about all this? Oh shit, where do I start-”

“Han Jisung? Seo Changbin?”

The cameramen were here. Of course they fucking were. 

Jisung tried to swallow the lump in his throat as Changbin turned slowly, menacingly to face the camera crew. The older man had never been as completely against pre-race interviews in the way Jisung was, but if you’d seen his eyes then you would have thought that this was the final straw. 

Despite his clear distaste, Changbin reluctantly welcomed them into the tent, sending worried glances Jisung’s way the entire time they set up, to which Jisung smiled tiredly. He had been glad to let out some of the concerns plaguing his lungs, but he knew there really wasn’t much Changbin would be able to do to help him other than hug him until Jisung was laughing again. Words wouldn’t help, no matter how packed with solutions they were. Changbin would just tell him that it didn’t matter if he won or lost because he and Chan would be there for him anyway.

But saying that wouldn’t fix the fear of losing that Jisung had built up for so long. He didn’t want to lose because he wanted the media to see him as himself. He didn’t want to lose because he didn’t want to let down Chan, or Changbin, or America, or Minho. 

_ Minho. _

Jisung’s breath caught at the thought of Minho.  _ I need him _ . 

Minho would know how he felt because Minho had been there himself. Only Minho was perfect whether he was winning or losing, an infallible angel. Minho’s words would help, Minho’s touch would help, Minho-

Jisung was seconds away from barging his way out of the tent to go and find his boyfriend when someone’s hand appeared on his shoulder. 

The reporter’s smile was wide. “Ready to go, Han?”

Jisung wanted to cry.  _ No, no, you can do this. Come on, Jisung. You’re the monster rookie.  _

_ Everyone is watching. _

The rookie smiled confidently, and as usual, his happiness seemed contagious, the entire camera crew smiling right back. “Absolutely.”

Changbin didn’t stop frowning.

  
  


_ 20 MINUTES TILL GREEN LIGHT _

Jae and Melody clapped as the screen transitioned from Han Jisung’s well-known smirk back to the desk they sat at in the studio.

Jae spoke first. “Well, well, well! It’s good to see that our rookie has his eyes set on his new title! America’s Golden rookie has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it, Mel?”

Melody contemplated Jae’s statement. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to it. It certainly rolls off the tongue better than a monster rookie, doesn’t it? I’m sure Han is looking forward to the switch from monster to golden… he’s in it to win all the same!”

“Anyway, we certainly were lucky to have our monster rookie as the last interview, as I’m sure the others wouldn’t be half as calm as he was considering we only have  _ twenty minutes  _ left before the race, folks! How exhilarating!”

Melody nodded. “All of our racers are headed to their cars right now, so how about we take a closer look at the scene? Kevin, Jacob, take it away!”

The viewers are immediately thrown down to the track through a brief fade transition, a complete contrast from the shoreline drone shots of the scenic track they had been receiving. They were right in the middle of the action now. 

Kevin Moon grinned at the cameras, his body silhouetted slightly by the low sitting afternoon sun that hung above the ocean. “Thanks, Melody! Wassup America? Are you guys ready to go?”

Jacob, who had been standing half out of frame up until the moment he spoke, placed a calming hand on his co-hosts shoulder. “Woah, Kevin, give them a moment. I don’t know about you guys, but this whole Grand Prix business is very nerve-wracking!”

Kevin nodded, buzzing with excitement as he gestured over the many safety barriers, metal, and plastic, towards the cars sitting further down the track. “It definitely is! But I’m sure we don’t have it  _ half _ as bad as our racers do… hell, even looking at those cars is terrifying! Oh look, there’s Jordan and Lee Know now!”

The camera panned to where Kevin was gesturing and settled on where Minho was slipping over the final barrier. When the black-haired racer turned back, he held out his arms to hold Jordan’s helmet for him, making it easier for the racer in pink to climb over. Neither of them seemed particularly interested in the hundreds of reporters and camera people tucked behind the barriers screaming their names, instead occupying themselves with what appeared to be a somewhat reluctant conversation, though that might just be the way Lee Minho talks normally. America truly wouldn’t know.

“Well, looks like those two are revving to go! I’m honestly interested in seeing how Know performs after such a long time of being out of the loop.”

The camera panned back to where Kevin was peering over Jacob’s shoulder at the racers, starstruck. Jacob nodded along with Kevin’s words. “Yeah, it’ll certainly be interesting to see if he can replicate his performance in America… he’s done pretty well so far though… uh, Kevin, is that one of our racers?”

Kevin looked incredulously at Jacob. “You don’t recognise Lee Felix? Jacob, how could-”

Jacob cleared his throat loudly. “We’re live, Kevin.”

“Oh, right! Uh, Felix is looking nervous… poor guy, he’s a great racer but he’s very far from home.”

Felix  _ did _ look a little pale. As he struggled over the barrier, he chewed the corner of his lip, lost in thought. He was so lost in thought that he probably would have tripped over the last one if Jisung hadn’t steadied him from behind. 

Felix looked shocked for a moment, waking quickly as though he had only just realised his feet weren’t on the ground. Jisung asked him a question as Felix jumped down over the other side and immediately turned back to reply. 

Kevin’s eyes widened as Jisung appeared out of nowhere. “Woah, it’s  _ him _ . Han Jisung has arrived at the track, in tip-top shape as usual.”

Jacob glanced to the side, where a producer was signing two minutes and sucked in a breath. “And just in time, by the looks. seventeen minutes to go, everyone.”

. . . 

“Are you okay, Felix?”

The Felix in question didn’t reply as he jumped down off the barrier, a breath of relief escaping his lips as his feet found solid ground. After a brief moment to wake himself up, he turned back to help Jisung over the barrier. “I don’t think so.”

Jisung swung his leg over the top of the barrier, and as he pulled himself up, he placed a hand on Felix’s shoulder. Hopefully bracing himself would ensure he didn’t injure himself before he even got to his car. “Well, that makes two of us, I guess.”

Felix blinked at Jisung, still trying to clear his head but failing rather miserably. “Huh?”

Jisung bounced as he landed, hating the jolt of ground shock that ran through his body just about as much as he hated the insistent nagging in the back of his head telling him that everything was about to go very wrong. At the sound of Felix’s less than coherent answer, he straightened and gave Felix a concerned look. Felix’s eyes were watery, shaking with fear that Jisung couldn’t understand. “Shit, Lix, are you good to race?”

Felix chewed the edge of his lip again. “I-I don’t know. I don’t know, Jisung, but I can’t go back now, right? I can’t give up.”

Jisung wasn’t convinced, worry building up in his chest on top of the pre-existing nerves. He placed a hand on Felix’s neck, his fingers cold against the pale skin despite the sunlight in Monaco. Felix barely flinched, simply fixing his eyes on Jisung’s furrowed brow. “I think you can if you aren’t going to be in full control of your car. Your pulse is normal, Lix, but… man, I hate seeing you like this.”

Felix did flinch at that. “Sorry.”

Jisung shook his head harshly, shifting his hand to Felix’s shoulder. “No, Lix, you’ve done nothing wrong- shit, I’m gonna get Maya-”

“No! Please.”

Jisung grit his teeth. “Felix, I’m really not sure-”

Felix sucked in a breath and shrugged Jisung’s hand off of his shoulder. “I have to try. I can do it. It’s just pre-race nerves.”

Jisung understood that. More than anything. He would never forgive himself if he gave up so close to the finish line, and it was understandable Felix had the same feeling. Because of this understanding, he let Felix go ahead, despite the foreboding feeling in his stomach. “Okay. Are you sure?”

Felix nodded, taking a few steps backward, only this time they were more confident, stronger. “I think so. Uh, good luck, Sung.”

Jisung gave a tight smile. “You too.”

As Felix made his way towards his own car, the bubble of quiet Jisung’s mind had created around them dissipated, leaving him exposed to the screams of reporters on the sidelines, each of them with different bribes for him to look their way. He winced as a car started towards the front of the pack, remembering he now had to walk between the top 10 to get to his position at the front.

He smoothed out the cuffs of his suit and tried his best to ignore the hundreds of eyes on him by fixing his own on the path ahead of him. And then they fell on Minho.

The other racer was climbing into his car, his helmet already on, but Jisung would be damned if he didn’t get to talk to him before the race started. Just like that, the cameras, the racers around him, the Grand Prix were completely irrelevant. Jisung picked up the pace, intent on getting to Minho before the other racer started his car. 

Minho seemed to sense someone approaching, turning back just as Jisung walked (jogged) passed the Chinese representatives purple car. He immediately reached for the straps on his helmet at the sight of the rookie, and Jisung’s heart wanted to overflow. 

He tried not to make it too obvious how much he wanted to be cradled in Minho’s arms by slowing his steps a few metres from the car, drawing an invisible line between them.

Minho didn’t struggle too much with getting his helmet off, more frustrated by the length of his dark hair as it now hung into his eyes.  _ Dammit, he just wanted to look at Jisung _ . 

The ever-present lump in his throat acted up at the sight of Minho struggling to clear his pretty hair from his face, and when the older finally looked up and smiled at Jisung, Jisung was nervous for a whole different reason. He swallowed and tried to make the exchange look as though he was simply making a passing comment, something off-handed. “Uh- good luck, Minn- I mean, Know. Stay safe.”

Minho looked confused at the coldness of Jisung’s statement and the distance between them before he processed exactly where they were. His shy smile remained as he replied. “Yeah, you too, Han.”

Minho had half-turned back to climb into his car when Jisung called out again, somewhat less confidently this time. “Minho, wait. I-”

_ I missed you.  _ .

“... I’ll see you at the finish line, right?”

Minho had to exercise a lot of self-control to stop himself from running over to Jisung, breaking the invisible line into a million pieces. He only just managed to keep his feet planted on the ground, but the few seconds he took to do so meant that by the time he replied, Renjun’s car was on and running. He raised his voice, the smile on his face mismatched with the volume of his words. “IT’S ON, HAN.”

Jisung grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh no felix oh no jisung  
> this was a FAT chapter of setting everything up,,,,,,,,,,,,, what can i say, it had to happen  
> I can only hope y'all enjoyed it anyways and that the next chapter will live up to the hype I've set up in this one... I've managed to dial down the angst to some extent but oh boy is there still a big storm coming aszdxfcgvnb
> 
> hope you guys enjoy the first part of the Monaco Semi Finals, and I hope to have the next part out by the end of the week as to avoid leaving you guys on a cliffhanger for too long~
> 
> bye!! love y'all and stay safe!!!
> 
> follow me on Instagram for irregular fangirling and random questionnaires that are only sometimes related to the fic: oh_cxnada


	26. All Eyes on The Boy In Red: Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time is ticking. Everyone is watching.
> 
> You can’t come last, Jisung.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!PLEASE READ!!
> 
> I'd like to think I've been pretty accurate in the past but in this chapter there is a lot Formula 1 terminology that is used... dubiously. 
> 
> Just know that I have made up some parts of the track (you wouldn't find a warm down zone or barricaded activation straits in real Formula 1) to make sure the events make more sense... I also have Changbin measuring space in 'cars' which is definitely not a formula one thing (they normally use times like I do often in this chapter), as it tends to be pretty inaccurate as you can imagine but they use it in street racing and I thought it would make things easier to visualize!
> 
> When I refer to:
> 
> First/Second/Third Activation Straits/Zones: essentially just imagine very straight pieces of track that allow for higher speeds.
> 
> Speed Traps: this is where the pit lane reconnects with the track and is often a feared place for racers because you have to merge back into the rotation safely, but there is also opportunity for getting ahead so basically: stressful and dangerous.
> 
> Apexes: I realise I probably should have explained this sooner but basically apexes are the innermost point in a corner... so when the engineers say take the apexes it basically means they want tighter corners to cover more ground in less time.
> 
> I think that's it for terminology for now? But I might add to this later if I remember anything else that would be easier to understand if it was explained hehe.
> 
> ...  
> tw: anxiety attack ahead, please skip from 'Minho's entire world came slamming down on him' to 'Among the many hateful thoughts running through Jisung's head' if it will trigger you in anyway! I really care about you guys and don't want to cause you any harm in any way ):
> 
> Also I'm very sorry what's about to happen- please remember there will be a happy ending!!!  
> to quote Changbin 'holy hell this is a fucking mess'

“ _ Jisung, can you hear me?” _

“Loud and clear, Bin.”

“ _ Are you okay to race, kid? I’m a little worried about you-” _

“There’s… there’s nothing that I can do about my feelings but race. I think I should be alright.”

“ _ Okay. We’re going to talk about this when we get back to the hotel though, Sung.” _

“I’ll lock that into my schedule after I talk to my manager about it. I’m sure he’ll approve.”

“ _ Ha, ha. Okay, one minute left, Sung. I’ll be waiting at the finish line no matter what, okay? Doesn’t matter if you lose; you’re not alone.” _

“Thanks, man.”

“ _ Love you too, kid. _ ”

Jisung sucked in a breath, his eyes closed tightly, almost as tightly as his hands were wrapped around the steering wheel. The coolness of the carbon fibre he could feel through his gloves was strangely comforting. It slotted in perfectly to Jisung’s hands, similarly to the way Jisung fit perfectly into his seat; they were all cogs in the machine that made it possible for Jisung to race at hundreds of miles an hour. If he lost even just  _ one  _ cog, the machine would jam. 

But today, nothing could fall out of place- and certainly not Jisung himself. Not with everyone’s eyes on him.

_ Breathe. _

Jisung couldn’t hear much over the thrum of his engine and his steady heartbeat in his ear, but he could tell by the movement of the people in the box-stand up ahead that the countdown had started. That was enough for him to imagine the crowd chanting along with the numbers on the billboard.

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4.

3, 2.

_ 1. _

And Jisung took off.

To Jisung, the beginnings of races were the most important parts; normally, it was time to work his way to the front from where he normally sat in third or fourth, but today it was about protecting his lead.

The first corners are always the same, so Jisung knew he could take it reasonably fast without losing control, and knew not to take it too slow because it only gets messier leaving the pack later on. He gritted his teeth as he picked up speed, the white and red barriers blurring together as he centred his focus on the tarmac in front of him. 

He just had to keep his lead. 

The next few corners were just as easy as the first, and Jisung’s nerves quickly settled into their normal places, in the depths of his chest, the tips of his fingers, and the tingling in his legs. 

There was nothing better than the hit of adrenaline he gets when he takes an apex at the perfect angle or the feeling of almost floating above the asphalt when you pick up enough speed. Jisung loves every second of it, even when he grits his teeth so hard that his mouth begins to taste like steel.

He can do this.

As Jisung reaches the first activation zone, the first straight along the shoreline, the nose of a yellow and white car dips into his blurred peripheral.  _ Donghyuck _ .

“ _ Haechan’s got your outer line, Sung, but his car won’t beat yours on a straight. I need you to pick up the pace and maybe try to outmaneuver him before you reach the tunnel. Raphael is about two seconds behind you two.” _

Jisung went to nod, out of habit, before realising for about the hundredth time that year that Changbin never installed a camera facing towards him. He would have rolled his eyes at himself if he wasn’t currently participating in the Semi-Finals of the Monaco Grand Prix. “Gotcha.”

So, with his body tense and his eyes narrowed, Jisung surged forward on the acceleration. The g-force was worse now, but it didn’t prevent him from breathing the same way a cheaper car would while racing at this speed.

Jisung didn’t need to check with Changbin whether he left Donghyuck behind or not; it was as clear as day when the yellow nose slipped from his vision. Jisung could practically hear the other complaining.

“ _ Great job, Sung, keep it up. There’s about an eight-car space between you and fourth place.” _

Ah, right. It wasn’t just Donghyuck he was protecting his spot from.

Jisung managed to smother the increasingly noisy nagging in the back of his head with the view of the tunnel up ahead; if he counted the seconds in between here and there, it would give him something else to focus on. 

The track would have been nice to look at if he wasn’t in one of the shiny cars racing down it; he had noticed it even during practice circuits. A strange feeling of relief soaked his back as he reached the warm lights of the tunnel, though that feeling may have just been his inner-wear pulling away from his skin as he shifted to the outer lane.

The lights lining the corridor blurred together into a smooth line as Jisung sped through the lane of least resistance. He almost wished he could stay in the honey-colored tunnel for longer, but he could already see the blinding sunlight at the end of it, where he would be put into the spotlight again.

“ _ Haechan is 1.6 milliseconds behind you, start spacing.” _

Changbin’s casual tone was absent now, and although Jisung prefers it over the professional one, he knows Changbin probably should have been keeping his commands brief from the beginning. 

Jisung quickly followed the advice, shifting his car from the outer edge he used for the corner and into the middle of the track. His car matched the red and white colours on the fresh set of sponsors painted across the barriers, Jisung noted. It was pretty hard to ignore them when they were practically the only thing that was stopping someone from squeezing passed him; if a car even clipped a barrier it was game over for them. Unfortunately, if Jisung’s memory was still intact from pole sitters and green track, they wouldn’t help him for much longer, with the series of bends coming up meaning he was going to have to pull into the apex and leave himself exposed on his outer side.

Jisung could only hope he was further ahead by then.

“ _ Raphael has passed Donghyuck. Chinese rep is in fourth, bumper to bumper with Haechan. _ _ The gap is 2 seconds, take the apexes.” _

The mention of other racers was enough to draw Jisung’s focus away from the turns far ahead and back to what was right in front of him. 

“And the other American reps?”

“ _ Jordan fifth, Minho sixth, Felix… tenth. We’re only five minutes in, though. At least an hour to go, Sung. 78 laps to go.” _

78 laps.

Jisung wished he had wiped the sweat from his brow before he put his helmet on because it was only going to get worse from here on in.

. . . 

“ _... Jisung is still in first, but he’s got the Canada rep and Raphael on his tail. You better gain ground, Minho, we’re half an hour in. and you’re still in fifth.” _

Minho’s jaw hurt from being clenched for the past 25 minutes, but it truly was the least of his problems. 

Minho was a generally confident person; sure, he hadn’t been for the past year, but he’s finding his footing again and at the same time, his pride. A month ago, he had been so low that he hadn’t cared whether he lost every race; as far as he was concerned, he had already lost everything when he crashed. First his impulse and trust in his instincts, then a couple races, then his sponsors. It had a domino effect, and by the end of last month, he had given up.

And then preliminaries happened and Minho had a solid reason to try again. He had to beat Jisung. 

Now, he had to win to prove that he was finally back in business. Of course, it wouldn’t be all that bad to be on the winner’s podium with his boyfriend next to him either, but his reputation should probably come first, so Minho was going to try and consider it more important than Jisung’s smile for now.

Minho was a generally confident person before, and now he was a generally confident person again. This confidence was how he had passed Jordan so early on, but now that he was in fifth place his liquid confidence was leaking away and he was realising he hadn’t really planned where he would go from here

“ _ Lee, tighten the corners. You’re getting sloppy again and Jordan is practically touching your tail.” _

Minho hissed out a reply through gritted teeth. “Yes, Anderson.”

Renjun’s car wasn’t too far from him; if Minho had to estimate, he’d say he’s about four seconds behind the racer in fourth. The problem is Minho knows he’s running out of rubber and the pits are still a quarter lap off.

So he shouldn’t push it, no matter how much everyone else wanted him to. 

Minho did, however, cling tighter to the apexes, knowing that as long as he maintained his speed, Jordan wouldn’t be able to pass him. 

_ Going just a little faster wouldn’t hurt though, would it? _

Minho shook his head as much as his seat would allow. No, he has to be careful.

_ You’ve been careful all year- _

_ Stop. I trust my instincts.  _

The pale purple car in front of him grew closer by the time they reached the second activation zone, but Jordan was also peaking into his vision around the looser corners. Minho’s knuckles cracked as he gripped the wheel tighter. He knows he can do this. Never has he been so sure of anything.  _ Lee Know can do this _ ,  _ he’s stronger than he’s ever been. _

“ _ Come on, Know, pass Renjun before you box.” _

Minho hated Anderson, as he should, considering how much shit she gave him for no reason. “And how the fuck do you propose I do that?”

He probably shouldn’t have said that.

“ _ I- watch your tongue, 98. Late-brake at the end of the activation zone then hit the pits ahead of him. The crew will have you fixed in two seconds and then you beat him to the speed trap. Got it?” _

Unfortunately, Anderson was good at her job.

“Yeah.”

Minho had practiced late-braking before; it was something that  _ had  _ to be practiced, because not only is it incredibly dangerous but the chances of it working well even if he hit it right were slim. An example of a late-brake gone wrong was the crash in the American Finals, with Maddox’s brakes jamming last second and him going straight into the barrier.

Minho certainly didn’t want that.

Catching up to Renjun and Haechan on the straight seemed almost too easy. It took mere seconds for Minho to pull up beside the Chinese rep, and clearly, he wasn’t the only one surprised by his sudden surge forward. 

The purple car immediately shifted into a more defensive position, or as defensive as he could get in his new position, trapped behind the Canadian rep and between Minho and the barrier.

Minho swallowed tightly as Haechan pressed forward, and he really, really hoped the racer in the yellow car had left them behind by the time they reached the corner. If he couldn’t lose Minho and Renjun by the corner, Minho was going to have to pass both of them or have to chicken and drop back. He could tell which option Anderson would prefer, but Minho would far rather wait until a better opportunity than get reckless.

As the corner loomed and the red and white barriers changed colours, shifting to the next sponsor, Donghyuck seemingly heard Minho’s concerns and clung to the inside, quickly putting a gap in between the three cars. Minho continued on the outside, satisfied now that the plan was falling into place.

Renjun tried to get Minho to shy away by steering away from the walls and closer to Minho. If it had been any other day, Minho would have probably shown his belly and given Renjun room, but something was different. He steeled his grip on the steering wheel and gave Renjun no leeway; he was going to have to wait until Minho was far ahead of him until he would be able to have free reign over the track again.

The yellow and white car ahead of them slowed for the corner and then disappeared from sight as he pulled it off smoothly. Minho grit his teeth as Renjun slowed beside him, clearly waiting for Minho to do the same.

_ You can do it, you know you can. You’ve practiced this. You’re capable. _

Closer, closer, closer.

Renjun’s purple car tried to recover the ground he had lost by braking appropriately, so Minho left it longer. The barrier at the corner opened its jaws, ready to tear his car to pieces if he messed this up.

Wait… wait…  _ now _ .

Minho slammed the brakes just past the practice area and took the corner as tightly as the speed would allow him, every single bone in his body suddenly feeling extremely fragile.

Then he was out of the corner.

And he was in fourth.

Pure, unadulterated euphoria overtook the adrenaline in Minho’s veins, and as he edged onto the next straight, the one that came right before the pits, he even dared to smile. 

Holy hell. Lee Know was back.

“ _ Well, good job, Know. They’ll eat that up. Get ready to box; if you do it fast enough you might even be able to pass Mr. Canada down here while putting space between you and China.” _

Minho did roll his eyes this time, though not even Anderson could crush the triumph in his chest. “Sure, on my way.”

_ Screw the crowds and the cameras. This is about me. _

. . . 

Jae gaped, speechless, leaving Melody to fill in the gaps. 

She cleared her throat. “Well, that’s something you don’t see every day! Late-braking around a corner like that… maybe our fallen champion isn’t as fallen as we think he is! Damn- I mean, wow, that was a risk but Lee Know certainly pulled it off.”

Jae managed to overcome his shock, blinking a couple of times before he released his white-knuckled grip on the desk in front of him. “You’re absolutely right- man, he scared me for a second there, did you see number  _ 73 _ hesitate before dropping back? Huang Renjun right? Man, that was crazy. I thought Han was going to be the only one that made me jump out of my skin today but it looks like he and Know will have to share the title.”

Melody perked up even more at the mention of Jisung. “I mean, I don’t think they’d be opposed to sharing... did you see that chat pre-race between those two? I don’t think I’ve ever seen Minho smile before, but he certainly did at Han! Maybe they’ve become friends over the preparation period?”

Jae hummed in thought for a moment, rubbing his chin. “Well, they certainly would learn a lot from each other... and put together, they have quite an explosive dynamic. I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to seeing another race between those two, one on one; monster rookie against a veteran champion.”

Melody paused for a moment to check the cameras again and remembered that America did, in fact, have other representatives that they should probably mention. “America! It looks like all of our representatives have now passed the halfway point of 34 laps, meaning that if nothing out of ordinary happens, we are about 40 minutes away from the end of the Semi-Finals! Time really does fly, doesn’t it? Now, let's get to positions...

“Han Jisung is holding steady in number one with only the pressure of Raphael Mercedes on his tail, as Lee Donghyuck has fallen behind due to a prolonged tire change. In fourth we have Lee Know, who has caught us all by surprise with a show of renewed talent in a dangerous late brake maneuver, and in seventh we have Jordan Allens who is gradually climbing back up to where he was.”

Jae’s excited expression faltered a little when he glanced at the next prompter. “Ah, it looks like Lee Felix isn’t doing so well; he’s conceded four places since the last time we checked in, now sitting at fourteenth. We can only hope he can make it back to the top 10 before he drops any further, or he may not go forward for the Finals. Good luck, Felix! America believes in you!”

Melody quickly brushes over Felix’s current position to begin commenting on the next mishap on the track, a new point of interest that is far more likely to make viewers smile. 

Felix wished he could do the same.

. . .

Felix was unravelling like a ball of string rolling down a staircase and he couldn’t stop. Every corner, every twist, every colourful tail that passed him took a piece of him with them.

He narrowed his eyes, trying to lift his energy the same as he often lifted other people’s, but it was no use. Felix was floundering, well out of his depth.

“ _ Felix, see if you can beat the New Zealand representative in the speed trap.” _

Swallowing the growing lump in his throat, Felix croaked out an answer. “Okay.”

He made a sharp turn into the pits and pulled to an abrupt stop in front of his black and blue tent. Normally, the sight of his crew would rouse even more excitement in the already crackling atmosphere, but now seeing them simply made Felix wish he was standing among them, not here in the car. At the wheel.

In record time, or at least for Felix’s crew, the checkup was complete and Felix was sent straight out towards the dreaded speed trap. Two seconds; two seconds was all he had to beat the white New Zealand car at the junction.

_ Come on Felix, you can do it. _

So Felix gave a final push, accelerating as hard as he slipped between the tire barriers and out onto the main track. But he was too late.

Although Felix was racing at two hundred miles per hour at this point, it felt like he was at a standstill as he watched the white car speed past him and down the track. Maybe Felix should just be a backmarker. At least then he would be able to relax and smile as Jisung, as always, raced passed him with energy like no one else.

The thought of Jisung brought Felix’s achingly tired body comfort; Jisung always tried his best, even on a bad day. Felix can’t give up yet. He can make the top ten; he’s only four cars away.

Felix, feeling less completely unmotivated than he had a few minutes ago, used this new thought to power him through the next set of bends. He smiled, his shoulders raised as he leaned slightly forward in his seat.  _ Don’t give up.  _

_ “It’s okay, Felix, you can catch him at the next activation zone… keep your head up.” _

Felix twisted his frame slightly as the gforce eased off around the corner, and once he had caught his breath he replied to his engineer with a laugh. “Of course! I can do this.”

“ _ That’s right! We still have 27 laps to get you back up there. That’s enough time for you to pass everyone! Even Han!” _

. . .

Defying expectation was meant to be Jisung’s specialty. Now, he wanted nothing more than to be across the finish line in first place without the need to pull off anything that could end in anything worse than number one.

The track ahead of Jisung was not as clear as he wished it was; they - he and Raphael - were approaching the back of the pack, meaning Jisung was going to have to adapt to a setting he wasn’t used to, also known as being among other vehicles. It wasn’t as though he’d never driven between backmarkers before, but in his current state, he really wasn’t half as confident as he normally was.

_ Come on, Jisung, wake up. Everyone’s watching and you’re just going to chicken out? _

“ _ Okay, Sung, ease up on the speed. You only have two backmarkers to pass right now, and Raphael can’t legally pass you while you’re between them. You know that, though _ .”

Jisung gritted his teeth. “Yeah, got it. How many seconds apart are these two?”

“ _...0.5. That’s not enough room to get super tricky, either. Just take it easy.” _

Jisung almost laughed. Take it easy? 

The piece of track he was currently racing down with the Monaco rep on his heels was so familiar now he could probably race it with his eyes closed. It was what happened when he raced the same track over 50 times in an hour.

To his left was the ocean, though you couldn’t exactly see it over the concrete grey barriers that extended higher than normal to protect racers from the glare of sunlight off the water, though that couldn’t stop Jisung from imagining how pretty it must be. To his right was, yes, another barrier, but over top of it were hundreds of smiling faces and screens, happy fans that wanted to share the excitement with the world. 

People were one of the things Jisung loved a lot about his job; maybe not people. But more accurately, making people happy. It kind of hurt that today it was the people that were his biggest fear. He doesn’t want to let them down.

_ I can do this, I have to. I can’t lose _ .

Jisung accelerated.

The backmarkers were an unfortunately designed pair of cars, the kind Jisung and Changbin would laugh at when messing around at their post-race breakdowns. It was pretty understandable that they weren’t doing quite as well as the others with (with tails like  _ that _ ), but Jisung really had to wonder how you can be in the top 30 formula one racers in the world and still not have the money to sue your painter for coating your car in vomit orange paint. 

The other car was more reasonable, but Jisung could hardly support the red, blue, and white theme when there were hundreds of other cars out there in the exact same colour.

The red, blue, and white car was Jisung’s first obstacle; it was travelling far slower than it should be on an even strip like this, which made Jisung even more worried than he already was, considering it was already exhibiting unpredictable behaviour. Unfortunately, he had to slip past it and orange to remain ahead, or Raphael would do it instead.

_ I can’t lose. _

Steeling his gaze and setting it on the gap in between the two cars, Jisung pushed forward, tires humming against the tar and his own heartbeat in his ears. Just a little closer and he could slip through. Just a little closer.

Jisung’s car pulled up alongside the red, blue, and white car at the same time as the driver appeared to ease off, maybe due to technical difficulty, or maybe he was just giving up. Upon seeing the red car, the other racer woke back up, but by the time his car guttered forwards, Jisung was already gone. No one could compare to the monster rookie.

Jisung bit his lip as he pulled in closer to the barrier, trying to squeeze passed the orange car in one smooth movement, but it was obvious the other wasn’t a fan of the idea of becoming nothing more than an object to pass. He drifted closer to Jisung, and the younger racer flinched as he edged closer to the wall.  _ No, no, no come on, come on, where is that damn corner? _

Practices and green tracks were not only there to test out new skills and parts; more importantly, they were to familiarize yourself with the race track. Despite this common knowledge, there were still a few drivers who couldn’t or simply hadn’t tried to fully memorise the track, and it really showed when it came to race day and they were timid around every corner.

Jisung, however, had always been pretty good at remembering things. Well, maybe not things such as where he leaves his keys, but when it comes to race tracks, he couldn’t be faulted.

However, Monaco was a different case, as he had been… distracted when he was practicing. The distraction was his fault, of course, but who could ever take their eyes off Lee Minho? Jisung couldn’t fathom having that level of self-control.

Luckily, his scattered memory was enough to save him this time. 

The corner came just as Jisung needed it most; he scrunched his nose as he pulled in tightly on the inner apex, quickly putting himself ahead of the unfortunate orange vehicle and leaving him behind.

Jisung released the breath he had been holding, and the muscles in his face relaxed. That was close.

“ _ Great work, 9, you’re still doing well.” _

Changbin’s voice disturbed the relieved feelings in his chest, grounding Jisung again in the way that Changbin had always made a habit of doing. Being realistic when Jisung was not.

Jisung bit out a reply, unsure of why he was snapping at Changbin when the other had done nothing wrong but doing it all that same.

“Sure.”

Of course, Changbin picked up on that. Maybe that was why Jisung did it; he wanted to let Changbin know that he still wasn’t okay.

“ _ Sung, is there anything I can do to help?” _

Jisung hated that Changbin was always so empathetic. The older man always had the right words, and although Jisung always had many, he could never locate the correct ones the same way Changbin did. 

But Jisung knew before he even opened his mouth before the race that Changbin couldn’t do anything about the fears he had internalized for a year, and that hadn’t changed now. “No, sorry. Where’s Raphael?”

“ _ I… okay. _ _ Jammed behind the Austrian Representative, the orange one. Oh, nevermind. He’s about 3 seconds behind you. Three corners till the line; your tires should be faring fine, so you don’t need to box. 20 laps to go.” _

. . .

Twenty laps soon became fifteen, and then fifteen became five. The countdown was on.

Jae checked the time. “Well, folks, we’ve just passed the 1hr and 30min mark, and things are heating up more than ever… as they should be with only five laps to go! By the looks of things, I’m not the only one feeling the pressure…”

Melody nodded eagerly. “Yes, our representatives are certainly drawing the eye, with each one of them pulling off stunts to maintain their places or gain a few. Lee Felix has fallen behind, and by the looks of things, he won’t be catching up from his place in fifteenth. I feel bad for the kid; he really did show good potential, hell, good enough to be up against world champions, but he doesn’t have the same experience everyone else on the track does, after only one year of racing.”

Jae hesitated. “I mean, Han only has a year of racing under his belt.”

Melody shook her head, a smile forming. “Yeah, but that kid is a prodigy; his driving, his technique, his knowledge of the track; flawless. I haven’t seen him slip up yet, though he is driving quite safely considering he’s  _ still _ trying to shake the Monaco and Canada reps off his tail. I don’t think it’s fair to compare  _ anyone _ with him.”

Jae shrugged. “Yeah, you have a point. Well, anyway, speaking of the Canada rep, Lee Know has had very few opportunities to pass him so far but it looks like there will be an open gateway at the next activation zone, and just in time too! Only four more laps!”

Melody cleared her throat. “With Jordan held steady in tenth, it looks like we may even be sending three American representatives to the Monaco Grand Prix Finals! Remarkable. I’ll send you guys down to the scene to get a closer look!”

. . . 

After ten minutes or so of jockeying Canada’s Lee Haechan around the tight bends and narrow straits of the Monte Carlo circuit, it looks like America’s Lee Know is about to finally make his move.

His silver car certainly stands out against the bright red sponsors on the barrier and the pastel blue of the sky that seems to remain pigmented despite the sun dipping lower and lower every minute. It is a statement, considering most silver cars blend right in on a public road, yet here on a race track backed with stimulating colours everywhere you look, Lee Know’s vehicle is like a breath of fresh air.

As the pair (or triplet, if you count China’s Huang Renjun, a car that was also been trailing them from a distance) approach the now familiar set of bends that mark the beginning of the final three laps, Know has approached closer, his nose edging just passed Haechan’s bargeboards almost mockingly. It was like he wanted to tease Haechan before he passed him, as though he wanted the Canada rep to know that this loss was inevitable; Lee Know was back, and he was willing to do anything to take first place.

The racer in silver was right if this metaphor was true; the pass was inevitable. Haechan tilted slightly away from the inner apex as Know wedged himself between the car and the barrier, and that was enough.

Lee Know was in third.

At the same time as the much-anticipated overtake was happening at the upper end of the track, America’s Lee Felix experienced the one thing that he had jokingly wished for earlier on. As he desperately tried not to give in to the temptation of, well, giving up, a red car appeared to his left, challenging him in his time of fragility.

Felix didn’t even need to turn and study it to recognise the signature shade of candy red; Han was lapping him. Felix might be able to watch his friend take first place if he manages to keep his emotions under control until the black and white flag falls.

Han Jisung appeared calm and collected as he slid passed his friend’s deep blue vehicle, but if there had been cameras in the car, the same ones that would have meant he wouldn’t be nodding to himself whenever his race engineers orders came through the comm, they would have captured a man at the very end of his road. 

The racer’s lip had split due to a forgotten bump in the track causing him to bite down harder than intended, and his eyes were terrified. He tried to focus on what his engineer was saying but all he was comprehending by this point was that Raphael was still right behind him, casting Felix aside in his seemingly never-ending pursuit, and everyone was watching.

As Melody said, it truly was all eyes on the boy in red.

As Han’s panic only grew, the crowd began to notice something was slightly looser about the racer’s driving style but passed it off as nothing more than him trying to lose Raphael by confusing him in the last two laps of the race. Han was taking corners like a mad man, and if he was anyone else, he would have been in a far worse position than he was. Every move he made he was getting closer and closer to the curbs, closer and closer to the barriers. 

If he isn’t careful, soon his natural ability won’t be enough to save him.

Know’s racing, however, was growing harder, faster,  _ stronger _ . Every turn was thought out, brave but careful and pinched tight at the apex and he was gaining on the pair that everyone thought had left him in the dust.

He dodged around Lee Felix’s car with ease and something else broke inside Felix. He was trying  _ so hard _ to catch up; he had gained two places since Han had shot past, but here he was, left behind again. He wasn’t going to make it. 

_ He wasn’t going to make it. _

Han’s car was moving fast down the activation zone at the end of his second to last lap, but it was clear his car was just as tired as he was. They were fast, but not fast enough. Raphael finally closes the gap around the first corner by performing a normally ineffective trick; taking the outside line. 

But it worked.

Han had conceded a place due to a trick as old as the sport itself.

_ Second place. All eyes on the boy in red. _

As Han swung out in defence, trying to block off Raphael in a last-ditch effort to hold on to first, he narrowly missed colliding with the Monaco representatives back wing.

In recovery, as they crossed over the line that signalled their final lap, Han’s driving grew unstable. His speed rocketed upwards, even faster than he was travelling before, despite the fact that there was an oncoming corner.

Know was probably witness to the change in pace, as he crossed the line 7 seconds after Raphael and Han did, with Haechan on his tail; a complete switch from the earlier positions. If there had been a camera in Know’s car, just like if there had been one in Han’s, the crowd may have witnessed the pure determination and confidence in the racer’s sharp eyes flood with worry at the sight of Han’s wide steering on the corner up ahead.  _ Focus, Know. He’s fine _ .

One lap left.

It was a fine day in Monte Carlo. A perfect day for such a prestigious event. A day in which one could not blame the conditions for a loss of control; how could you have slid if the tar below you was dry? How could you have had your vision impaired if the sky was clear, without a rain cloud in sight? 

No one could put a finger on how Raphael had widened the gap so much by the time they raced out the other end of the tunnel; Han, the monster rookie, had fallen behind by at least two seconds, and although he looked like he was in a hurry to catch up, the gap was only getting wider.

It appeared that it was time to pull off a stunt, though no one could see that going well considering Han’s worrying technique that only seemed to grow more frantic with each passing second.

Felix was oblivious to his friend’s circumstances, solely focused on not breaking down as he crossed the line and entered his final lap. His speeds were as average as they could get, but he sped up slightly as he spotted a familiar car ahead of him; the Korean representative he had conversed with a few days before, Lee Jeno. 

It somewhat comforted him to see that someone as good as Jeno was placing only a few cars in front of him. It was enough for Felix to want to put in a final push to get through his last lap and across the line, even if he didn’t get to race this track again this year. 

Han was racing like it was his last chance to race, like he wouldn’t ever race again if he came in second. The countdown is on; the crowds are chanting down from a minute as Raphael, Han, Know, and Haechan pass through the final activation zone. 

_ Time is ticking. Everyone is watching. _

_ You can’t come last, Jisung.  _

Raphael takes the lead in the final corners, clinging to apexes the way Han had a single lap beforehand, and maybe that’s why Han was inspired to take the outer line, the same way Raphael had.

Maybe that’s why Han drifted out a little too far, and his tires caught the edge of the marbles.

Maybe that’s why Han’s tires blistered on the final strait, why the metal screeched against the tar, and sent him spinning across the line narrowly missing taking Know with him.

Maybe that’s why Han made a rookie mistake and paid the price.

… 

Minho’s entire world came slamming down on top of him as Jisung’s tires blistered and the metal of the red car meets the track. Everything moves in slow motion as sparks fly, and the red car swung out across the track beside Minho and disappeared from Minho’s vision. 

_ CRASH. _

_ No, NO. _

Minho slammed on his brakes, everything inside him screaming that  _ this isn’t real, this isn’t happening, Jisung, Jisung, Jisung- _

He tried to stop but the panicked look in the officials’ eyes as they frantically waved him off the track felt too familiar. His breathing was beyond irregular as he turned sharply into the warm down zone, and his heart was strangling him.  _ Jisung, no- he has to be okay, I love him, I love him- _

The protocol called for Minho to fall into line and retrace the zone until everyone had passed the line but he was on the verge of a panic attack and he had to get out of his car. That was the only comprehensive thought in Minho’s brain- get out. 

“Minho!”

Minho tried to suck in a breath as he struggled to lift his halo, but it felt like he was choking on air. Seungmin was at the barrier, his eyes wide with shock and fear. 

Minho looked at him for a millisecond, and that was all the motive Seungmin needed to glance to the side before waving the main tent crew to get Minho’s car into the tent as he tried to talk to Minho. “Now! Go and get the car- yes I am aware we aren’t allowed-  _ do it now _ . This is a medical situation, there’s no time for you to fuck around.”

_ Jisung- oh god, he has to be okay.  _ Minho tried to press up against his halo again, but he was trying so hard to stop himself from shaking that he couldn’t put his effort into anything else. 

Then Seungmin was right beside him, talking to him as the team crowded around the car and pushed it towards the tent. 

Seungmin gripped the side of the vehicle and walked with it as Minho struggled. “Minho, Minho, I need you to look at me.”

Minho swallowed once, twice, before trying to meet Seungmin’s eyes, his helmet knocking against his frame as he did so. He was definitely shaking now, but at least he wasn’t crying. Seungmin looked like he was breaking too. “Hey, hey, Jisung’s going to be okay, yeah? He’s going to be fine. He didn’t hit the barrier, he just spun out. He’s going to be fine.”

Minho tried to shake his head but was interrupted by someone finally trying to lift the halo for him, freeing him from his chains.

_ No, he won’t be, Jisung, happy sunshine Jisung will be hurt just like I am. God, I need to see him. Jisung, Jisung you’re going to be okay- _

Minho wobbled to his feet as soon as the crew brought his car to a stop inside the shelter, the safe space of the tent, his eyes blurring. They remained unfocused as he stepped out of the car and into Seungmin’s arms. He choked on air again, his heartbeat throbbing in his ears. 

Seungmin immediately slung his arm over his shoulder and carried him to the back of the tent, setting Minho on the ground behind the tent. The three-member crew watched on, confused until Seungmin glared at them and they set about going to talk to the concerned officials waiting by the track edge.

_ CRASH. CRASH. CRASH. _

“Know, Know, look at me again, please. I’m going to touch you, okay?”

Seungmin set about removing his helmet and mask, and despite the warning, Minho still flinched when Seungmin’s hand made contact with the skin of his cheek. He let out a noise close to a sob. “Oh god, Jisung- Jisung-”

“He’s okay, I promise, Know, you know I wouldn’t lie. Can you tell me where we are?”

Minho was deathly pale as he shook his head violently, one of his hands reaching for his zipper. “I- I can’t breathe, help me-”

Seungmin quickly obliged, his own hands shaking as he unzipped the tight suit, peeling it away from Minho’s clammy body to reveal nothing but innerwear and more pale skin. “Is that better?”

Minho nodded, still struggling to manually operate his lungs but not complaining as Seungmin reached behind him to pull the top half of his suit completely down. He sucked in a couple shallow breaths before reaching out to brace himself on Seungmin’s shoulders. Seungmin leaned closer, kneeling down fully so that Minho could talk without straining himself. “W-we’re in Monte Car-Carlo.”

“That’s right, Know, that’s good. Do you know what colour my hair is?”

Minho barely smiled before he sobbed, his strength completely gone. “Brown- oh-oh god, Jisung crashed. I have to go see him, Seungmin, please let me up-”

Seungmin felt his heartbreaking as Minho’s grip on his shoulders grew a little more desperate like Seungmin was the only thing keeping him afloat. “Minho, can you count down with me? We have to count or else you might pass out. Jisung is okay, we can go and see him later, yeah?”

Minho sobbed again, burying his face in Seungmin’s shoulder. “I- he... okay. Ten, n-nine…”

Seungmin ran a hand through his hair as he counted, and Minho let himself pretend it was Jisung there, and any second now he would crack a dumb joke to play off the flush in his cheeks, or tell Minho how silly he was being.  _ Everything’ll be okay, Minho, seriously. And  _ I’m  _ the dramatic one? _

Over the sound of his own shaky counting, Minho heard Seungmin ask for someone to get a taxi, and suddenly he was too tired to argue. Minho gave up on stopping himself from crying, tears running freely down his cheeks as he breathed out. “S-six, five-”

_ Seungmin says Jisung didn’t crash. I can trust Seungmin, I think. Jisung is going to be okay. _

Seungmin rejoined Minho counting the final few numbers. “That’s it- three, two-”

_ One. _

. . . 

Among the many hateful thoughts running through Jisung’s head, he had one that stood out.

_ It’s over.  _

Jisung couldn’t really feel much as he sat on the stretcher on the medic tent, looking out over the track he had just raced - and lost on. Or at least, he couldn’t feel anything in his head; his neck was sore from the whiplash he suffered when the tire popped but his HANS device had prevented any severe injury. Because he had avoided collision with the barrier, simply spinning wildly towards the warm down zone, he had no impact bruising other than the already purple flowers on both of his shoulders. 

So Jisung was fine. Just a little achy on the outside and completely void on the inside.

He still smiled for the cameras when they all came in to check on him, everyone frantic to find out whether or not the  _ monster rookie _ would be able to race in the Finals. Changbin had managed to chase them away, but apparently, they had trapped him in their lenses, because it had been ten minutes and Jisung was still sitting alone in the tent. 

_ You lost. I wonder what they’re going to say. What will Chan say? _

Jisung shouldn’t feel like this; he’s never felt like this before. Maybe on the rare occasion, his head has gotten a little too loud about his expectations for himself and has pushed him over the edge to get first place. But  _ never _ had Jisung felt so watched, as though he had been stripped bare for the world to see. As though the entire world had watched him make the biggest mistake of his career, and look stupid doing so.

He tried not to bite his lip anxiously, knowing the salve had yet to dry. He tried to distract himself by crossing his legs, slouching from the straight-backed position the nurse had recommended and picking at a loose thread in the sleeve of his innerwear.

“Jisungie? Oh my god, oh my god-”

Jisung didn’t need to turn to recognise Felix’s worried voice, and he almost didn’t  _ want _ to. Felix probably hadn’t seen his crash, but that didn’t mean Felix wouldn’t see it later on and realise how stupid Jisung had been. How Jisung had lost in front of millions of people.

He reluctantly dragged his eyes away from his wrists to Felix who was now standing red-eyed at the end of the stretcher. “Ah, hey.”

Felix spluttered a laugh. “Jeez, I heard you were okay, but I didn’t think you’d be  _ this _ okay- can I hug you?”

Jisung immediately stiffened. The second Felix touched him, reality was going to hit. Felix probably didn’t know about loss yet; knowing Felix, he would be positive about it. 

_ Third place is still really good! _

So that was how Jisung reasoned to push away one of his closest friends who was in just a fragile state he was in, right before having his perception of his self ripped from beneath him.

“Uh, no… I- uh, neck injury and stuff.”

Felix wrung his hands, his eyes worried behind wet lashes. “Oh god, is it really bad, Sung? Are you going to be okay?”

Jisung plastered another fake smile on his face, adjusting his position so that he could look at Felix properly. “Yeah. I’ll be fine for Finals.”

Felix closed his eyes and breathed out slowly, before kneeling down at the end of Jisung’s stretcher looking just as pale as Jisung had felt during the race. “You fucking scared me, you know that, man? I thought you had done in you-”

“Point for me then? What is it, 12:7 to you?”

Felix floundered for a moment before his mouth dropped open and his brows pulled together. “Jisung- you could have  _ died _ . Look, I love you, but this isn’t a time for fucking around! You got so lucky-”

_ Got lucky.  _ Jisung tried to stop the sudden, irrational anger in his stomach but his filter was broken almost as much as his thought process was. “I- Felix, I  _ lost _ . In front of  _ everyone _ .”

Felix seemed to struggle processing Jisung’s words, shaking his head in shock. “You think you  _ lost?  _ You came  _ third _ , Jisung, that's-”

Jisung’s jaw clenched and for the first time since he hit the marbles, emotion flitted across his face. But it wasn’t happiness. “You don’t get it; coming third is just as bad as losing.”

Felix tried to swallow the lump in his throat but he had never been particularly good at holding back his tears, and Jisung knew that. “Well, at least you fucking placed.  _ I _ may as well just fly home.”

Not wanting to look at Jisung for a moment longer, Felix let tears run down his freckled cheeks once again, his head hurting from the pent up nerves finally releasing themselves in the form of lipid, salt, and water. There was nowhere he would rather be right now than back home.

Jisung was the one who didn’t get it. 

_ Oh. Felix didn’t place? That's… that's... _

“Felix… oh, I had no idea. I’m… maybe you could-”

_ You’re choosing the wrong words, Jisung, dammit. _

Felix tried not to completely lose it. The caring Jisung from before the race was gone again, and he had transformed back into the Monster Rookie, the one who never cared about anything but racing. Felix was growing a little sick of the Monster Rookie; he could understand being disappointed about not placing first, but the way Jisung picked and chose when he wanted to care about his friends was beginning to hurt. 

Felix knew about Changbin’s sky-rocketing stress levels apparently long before Jisung did anything to help him, the Monster Rookie always focused on the next event and next venue without taking a moment to consider Changbin’s health.

Anyone could tell that the way the Monster Rookie had put racing before Minho had hurt the older racer far more than he let on; Minho went dead silent for an entire week, and completely stopped interacting with them in general, which was clearly a self-defence mechanism. Felix wondered whether Jisung had apologised yet.

And Felix knew it wasn’t fair to blame Jisung for not knowing about his placing, but it had been two  _ hours _ since the race had finished and it still hurt so much. 

Felix couldn’t hold back his anger any longer. “You know what? I’m not surprised. It’s pretty obvious that you have no idea how self-centred you are, Jisung. First with Minho, and now with me.  _ We’re people too.  _ I- I’m leaving now. I can’t- call- nevermind.”

Felix didn’t finish his sentence, instead of wiping a tear from his cheek, shaking his head at Jisung’s shocked expression and storming from the tent, narrowly avoiding shouldering Changbin as he ducked passed.

Jisung felt like all the air had been knocked from his lungs the second Felix’s tone shifted, and suddenly everything was hitting him at once, all of the things he had been avoiding. 

_ Third place. You’ve let everyone down.  _

_ We’re people too. _

Felix was right. There are people behind all the eyes. And Jisung had hurt them without even thinking about it.

_ Felix is out of the competition. _

_ Minho. The guy that went out of his way to open up to you, the guy who was probably just as scared about this race as you are. The guy who was so quick to accept your half-assed phone call apology, when you prioritise your own career over him with a few hours worth of thought.  _

_ Self-centred. _

Overwhelmed by all his feelings at once, the void inside Jisung quickly fills with a vast ocean of remorse, and a new avalanche of thoughts that Jisung didn’t have the capacity to process.

He settled with raising his hand to his mouth, slumping forward in shock and trying not to cry.

. . . 

When Changbin entered the room, all he had been able to do was watch with wide eyes as Felix shoved passed him and felt completely oblivious to what was happening. Now, he feels even more so, as Jisung’s blank expression from earlier is replaced with one that told Changbin all of Jisung’s worlds were crashing down on him at once.

Maybe now wasn’t a good time to tell him about Minho’s panic attack.

Changbin faltered in the doorway for another moment before making his way towards where Jisung was hunched over himself on the stretcher on the floor.

_ Holy fuck, this is a mess. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh oh :D


	27. Tear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i promise this is the last bit of angst - the fluff is coming soon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this isn't really a proper update and I'm REALLY sorry for that but there is a real chapter in the works and happy stuff is coming i promise!!

_“Jisung… what happened?”_

_Jisung’s eyes snapped up to rest on Changbin’s cautiously approaching figure, and the shocked expression on his best friend's face was enough to jolt him from his anxiety spiral. The familiar planes of Changbin’s cheekbones and chin had always brought comfort to Jisung, but right now it was just reminding him of what he has done. The person he has embodied from the day he started racing._

_He tried to speak, tried to reach out for something to ground him but all he could manage was a pathetic squeak of a sound. Changbin’s face fell as Jisung whimpered. “Okay, nevermind, let's talk about this later. You’re going home.”_

_For a moment, Jisung let himself entertain the idea that the ‘home’ Changbin was talking about was actually back in America, not in his expensive villa but at Chan’s place, a walk up from the Creek. He stepped wobbly to his feet as Changbin phoned a taxi._

_He felt small as he allowed Changbin to guide him up to the private entrance, no doubt abandoning the busy crew and again, doing it all for Jisung. He probably looked small as well, defeated and exposed with his bodysuit folded down to his hips and his face far paler than its usual golden glow. This was what he had been trying to avoid, only this time it was for a reason he couldn’t have predicted, considering how long he had been blind to his own actions. Or more accurately, his lack of action._

_His fingers curled around his dark innerwear and he tried his best to stand tall._

_He needs to fix this. He needs to- to do something. Anything._

_“Changbin? Changbin, I need to apologise.”_

_The hand on his back tensed noticeably as they stepped out onto the footpath of the secretive side street. Jisung didn’t need to glance to his side to picture the firm expression on Changbin’s face. “No. We’re going back, Jisung, you’re in no state for this-”_

_“Please, Bin? I just, I need to apologise, I hurt him. I hurt you too! I’m sorry, I-”_

_Changbin shook his head, but not dismissively, simply worried. Scared, almost. “Sung, I don’t know what you’re talking about but I want you to take a couple breaths, okay? Take a moment to collect yourself.”_

_Jisung tried to argue but he found his body automatically obeying Changbin’s advice, identifying his friend’s words as far more lucid than whatever was thrashing around in Jisung’s head. The dragon from his stomach had grown again, burning his insides and his vocal cords along with it._

_He nodded silently and set his gaze back on the ground and was shocked at how quiet his brain became with such little prompt. The air was still suffocating him, but it was quiet._

_Changbin grit his teeth as his phone began buzzing again in his pocket, reluctantly dropping his comforting hand from Jisung’s back as he answered it. Jisung missed the warmth immediately, but he knew not to interrupt watching numbly as Changbin hissed at the contact details before swiping to answer._

_A few minutes later, after a consistent series of clipped responses and meager protest, Changbin hung up and looked back at Jisung from where he now stood by a street lamp a few feet away from his friend due to his anxious pacing. “Sung… The taxi will be here in two minutes, and she’ll know where to take you, okay? I’m sorry that I can’t go back with you, but the team needs my help and there’s a brief press conference that I have to be present for- damn it, please call Chan when you get back, Jisung. He’ll help, okay?”_

_Jisung nodded. He didn’t know how else to respond._

. . . 

Jisung didn’t call Chan when he got back to the hotel at 10:00. 

Changbin’s worried advice was still fresh at the forefront of his mind, but it wasn’t alone. Joining it was the dread in his stomach that had yet to fade from the initial moment his tires screeched against the tar, the text from Seungmin about Minho and Felix’s tears. 

In his haste to please all the eyes on him and the person back home who he knew would love him no matter what, Jisung had completely disregarded the other important people in his life. 

Maybe the reason Jisung didn’t call Chan when he got back was exactly that; he remembered now that Chan would love him no matter what. He probably saw this placing, this third place the same way Felix did, and if Chan didn’t know about the fact Jisung had completely broken down then he wouldn’t worry. 

But Jisung knew the real reason he hadn’t called him was that he was a coward. Too afraid that even if Chan still loves him, he might realise that when the media come out with stories about Jisung having broken his streak that his legacy is broken, and that no one will ever see Jisung as but a could-have-been.

The floral wallpaper in his and Changbin’s hotel room had never seemed so foreign. The room was lit with only Changbin’s bedside lamp, something he had clearly forgotten to turn off as he left that morning. And he wouldn’t be home for another few hours. 

Changbin worked too hard.

Jisung stared blankly at the pink lamp shade for a few moments, his now folded bodysuit under one arm and his innerwear under the other as he realised just how alone he was. 

_It’s your fault, boy in red._

He dropped his things to the floor beside his bed and sat down stiffly, his white top doing a terrible job at keeping him warm but he was a little past caring.

_You hurt him. He’s working too hard, and you accept his labour with open arms without giving back._

_The last-minute suit, when he had asked a sponsor for yours. The constant checking if you’re alright, even if you never ask back. His breakdown, when he finally couldn’t hide what he was feeling from you any longer. He’s never, ever left your side. Would you leave his if it meant you could become an even bigger star?_

Jisung adjusted his shorts and kicked back the duvets.

_You hurt him. This is new, and you were the one person who he thought he could relate with because it’s new for you too._

_Getting lunch with you because he didn’t want to eat alone in a foreign city. Congratulating you in the green track races, constant sunshine even when he said that he wasn’t sure whether he should be here along with anyone else. An hour of thinking after your loss of control and not a single thought had been dedicated to one of your closest friends. He came to check on you as soon as he could. And still, you were blinded by your own loss._

Jisung’s hands clenched around the white sheet beneath him as his thoughts threatened to swallow him whole. The duvets he had pulled over himself now felt like they were weighing him down, dragging him beneath the surface.

_You hurt him. He liked- likes you a lot. He put you first, getting to know you when he didn’t have to, sharing his past before you shared yours. And you put yourself first, in the end. Discarding the trust in a second in favour of a more rational path. You hurt the person you could love one day. And still, he smiles at you, talks to you despite the threat the cameras pose to his future, while you have a get out of jail free card._

_You hurt Minho._

Jisung didn’t even notice the tears on his face until he choked out a sob. Although it was a weak, muted noise, it still echoed around the small room, filling the soft pink air with a sound that emulated exactly what he was feeling.

_He had to fix this. No matter how long it took._

Maybe it would be easier when the sun was by his side. When he had a clear head, after the dragon escaped his mouth while he slept. When his heart stopped clenching at the thought of his friends, and his stomach emptied itself of the awful, pitch-black dread that seems to have stained its walls.

Maybe when he wakes up he’ll be able to mend the bonds, ones that had frayed around the edges, and the ones he had torn and turned away from. Maybe he could fix the way he thought, the habit of always putting himself and the cameras first. 

But for now, he’d have to lie alone in the dark and do his best to stop himself from falling past the point of no return.

_You can do it. You’re the monster rookie, for goodness sake._

Jisung cries quietly until he falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl i am still not happy with this chapter (or continuation? I'm not sure whether it deserves to be judged as its own chapter considering its so short AND so empty of new revelation for the viewers) but i felt like i needed to just get it out there or else I'm never going to move on~~~
> 
> i wanted this chapter to serve as a time for jisung to fully process what felix meant, and understand what his actions, as well-meaning as they usually are, can be perceived as. last chapter was his awakening - this chapter was his getting ready - and next chapter is his apology and redemption. 
> 
> also, update on me for those who don't mind reading it: I've been missing for a while due to covid-19 coming back to nz after we thought it was gone for good, approaching mock exams and a super fun enjoyable hospital visit three days ago😍 but dw im doing great now!! 
> 
> thank you so much for reading and I'll get back to writing that apology chapter right away<3  
> see you guys again soon!!
> 
> get updates and periodic spam on my Instagram: oh_cxnada


	28. Green Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A walk with Changbin clear Jisung's head, and the younger decides he is going to start his road to improvement by apologising to the people who deserve it most.

When Han Jisung woke the next morning, the first thing he registered was that the curtains were open. It was a pretty easy observation to make, considering the amount of light in the room, but Jisung could also tell that the physical curtains weren’t the only things that had opened up. He felt better. 

Well... he didn’t really. His eyes were sore, his head was throbbing and his entire body felt as though it had been run over by  _ 9 _ , but he could breathe again, and breathe with the knowledge that he has a whole day to right all of his terrible wrongs.

The second thing Jisung noticed as he slowly opened his stinging eyelids was a warmth that seemed far too concentrated to be sunlight and was moving far too much to be his duvet. He was enveloped by another body and he suddenly wanted to cry.

_ Changbin. _

He shifted slightly under the blanket, wincing as his body screamed in protest, before lifting his hands to rest on where Changbin had his arms wrapped around his torso. 

He spent the next two minutes trying to figure out how he was going to get up to check his phone, for a text from Seungmin or Minho without waking up his best friend, when Changbin came to.

“Jisung, stop squirming.”

Jisung immediately stopped the absent-minded fiddling of his feet. He waited a few moments to see if Changbin had anything else to say, before murmuring out a greeting, his voice was certainly on the more croaky side compared to Changbin’s gravelly tone. “Bin? So… You’re in my bed, huh?”

“Uh-huh. I,” he yawned, “I thought you would be happier if you had someone here when you wake up.”

Even in his grumpy, half-asleep state, Changbin still managed to find the right words, ones that made Jisung want to cry even more than he had before. “I… I love you, man.”

Changbin’s words were slurred with sleep. “Love you too… ‘m worried about you, Sungie.”

Jisung quickly recognised that if he started talking to Changbin, especially in such a safe, comfortable place, he was going to spill his guts about everything. All of his guilt, all of his uncertainties, all of his fear will be released and Changbin will no doubt try and share this weight, even though it isn’t his problem at all. Testing Changbin’s hug-tightness by shifting forward again, Jisung began planning his escape. “Oh- well, yeah. I  _ have _ been a bit worrying recently.”

He didn’t know what he was going to do once he got free, but Jisung knew he needed a little longer to plan how he was going to make Felix, Minho, and of course, Changbin feel better. And to better himself as well in the process. 

Jisung decided it would be a good time to go for a walk.

Changbin hummed against Jisung’s back. “Mmm… you certainly have been. Hey- I thought I said cut out the squirming.”

_ All you need is a believable excuse, Jisung, come on- _

“Uh- I need to get up to… go to the gym.”

_ Wow nice one, Sung, he’ll definitely believe that. _

“Uh-huh. Yeah, you’re not,” another yawn, “running away from me again, Jisung. I wanna talk about yesterday.”

Jisung winced, before persisting with his attempt to wedge his hands between Changbin’s arms and his body, though now that Changbin’s aware of his escape attempts, his grip has become unbreachable. “What- urgh, let me  _ go _ \- are you talking about? Yesterday was great- WAIT-”

Changbin, shockingly, had listened to Jisung’s request, the only issue being is that Jisung had been trying so hard to get free that when was released he had enough pent up energy to propel himself right off the side of the bed, and now found himself on the plush carpet of the hotel floor. 

Sounding somewhat monotonous, Changbin offered condolence that was even more muffled from Jisung’s position on the floor than it would have been on the bed. “Oops. Are you good?”

Jisung sighed, lifting his head and running a hand through his hair as he tried his best to get his aching body to lift him into a sitting position so he could look at Changbin properly for the first time that morning. His friend smiled at him with half-lidded eyes and hair even messier than Jisung’s but it was clear that Changbin was far more awake now that he had the bed to himself. And judging by the knowing look in his tired eyes, he was aware he had already won.

Jisung bit his lip, arms hanging over his knees as he prepared himself to forfeit. “Okay. You win. But can we… can we go for a walk?”

Changbin’s smile grew softer. “Of course, Sung.”

_ Maybe _ , Jisung wondered, talking about it was something he needed to do. It was certainly better than running away from the problem. He stood slowly, wincing this time, not because of his thoughts but because he was immediately reminded of the fact that he is, in reality, a formula one racer who just had the biggest race of his career so far only a day beforehand. Which means pain. 

Changbin snorted as Jisung almost immediately sat down on the edge of the bed after swaying violently, having seen this reaction before, though clearly to a lesser extent. “You want me to shower first?”

Jisung sighed again. “Yeah. I’ll stretch.”

. . .

Most of the walk to the end of the street was made in silence, as Jisung wasn’t ready to talk yet and Changbin seemed to realise that.

The morning air did wonders for clearing to Jisung’s head. Breathing became easier with repetition, and simply admiring the whites and creams that painted the sides of the buildings made him feel far less claustrophobic than the inside of the hotel room. The streetlamps also fascinated him after further analysis, with the decorative metal around each lamp seeming far more expensive than any street light back home. 

Absorbing the little things on the street, all of the pretty little details he hadn’t paid attention to before certainly made Jisung feel better, even if he wasn’t solving any issue at that moment. 

Changbin snuck another glance at Jisung when they passed the gym, trying to get a read on him but feeling stumped. He wished he could see through Jisung’s facade of happiness, try and figure out what really happened yesterday, but he knew he should wait. Giving Jisung, or anyone for that matter, a moment to wait until  _ they _ felt like talking is the most important and helpful thing you can do. So Changbin waited.

It was when they reached the end of the road, just passed the large, metal monster of the fitness gym, and turned around to head back that Jisung broke the silence.

“So. What… what parts did you want to talk about?”

Changbin maintained his neutral expression, although Jisung wasn’t looking at him. Instead, the younger watched his white shoes dodge the cracks in the pavement that seemed to be crawling towards the gutter. “Well… can we start from the beginning, or is that too much?”

Jisung tried to figure out, briefly, where his problems had laid root, but he supposed the selfishness he had been accused of had always been a part of him. His other issue of fear of failure began the day he won his first race and had been building since then. Maybe he should start there.

“I- I can try… There’s a lot, though, Changbin. I guess… at the race yesterday, you know how I was freaking out, right?”

“Yeah. I remember.” Changbin did remember, surprisingly, the words Jisung had spoken to him then despite how hectic the rest of the day was.  _ Letting people down. Nothing more than a prodigy.  _

Jisung swallowed, deciding to train his gaze on the ornate rubbish bin up ahead instead of on his shoes. “Well, it was… it kind of came out of nowhere, but that feeling of, I don’t know, that fear of losing has been building for a while I think. I’ve won so many times, and now… I was scared that if I lost, people would be upset. Not even at me, just… sad. Like I was when Chan quit. And I know- I know you, and Chan, and Fe- everyone, I guess would still love me, but…”

Changbin fidgeted his hands in his jacket pocket, unsure of whether to close the gap between them as they walked are give Jisung some distance. “But it would still hurt.”

“Yeah. And… I couldn’t stop, I just couldn’t stop thinking about everyone watching me. So many people, and I… I did let them down, I guess. But I’m still in third. I know I should be thankful but it’s hard. It’s really hard.”

A car drove rather slowly passed them at this point, meaning Changbin waited a few moments before replying. “I can imagine it would be. It’s… it’s something that isn’t going to affect you in the long run, though. This third place. You’re still a brilliant racer, Sung, whether you’re in the public’s favour or not. They can take away the cameras, Jisung, but they can’t take away your skill. Not to be dramatic, but it’s part of who you are.”

Jisung glanced at Changbin for the first time since they began talking, and now he really was crying. Or at least, his eyes were watering quite severely. “Why are you like this, Changbin?”

Changbin startled, his eyes widening as he tried to figure out what Jisung meant. “What...?”

“How do you know all the right things to say? I just can’t, even when I’m trying.”

Changbin blinked, unsure of how to respond. It was kind of ironic, really. He really had no idea where this was coming from, especially considering Changbin had always considered Jisung one of the best speakers he had met. “What do you mean?”

Jisung swallowed again, his mouth dry at the thought of how he treated Felix despite the fact the tears in his eyes were threatening to fall with even the slightest encouragement. “I- I always put myself before everyone else, you know? Even when I’m just talking. I take everything for granted, especially if it comes to racing. That’s… that’s what Felix made me realise. Yesterday.”

The image of Felix with tears streaming down his cheeks and a frown on his face jumped to the front of Changbin’s mind and makes the worry dwelling in the back of his throat surge up again, for both of his friends. He had struggled to focus the night before at the post-race press conference and meeting with AFO, unable to stop thinking about everything that he knew had gone wrong, and about how he wasn’t able to find out and help. “Ah. Did you end up calling Chan about this?”

Jisung hesitated, sniffing and shaking his head. His pace wasn’t quite as timid as it had been before, but the pattern of his worn white sneakers on the pavement was far from its usual level of extravagance. “I didn’t want to worry him.”

Jisung didn’t have to be looking at Changbin to see the worried expression on his face grow even more so. “Jisung.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I just… you know. Couldn’t do that to him. And I also… I suppose it would make it easier for me to explain if I told you exactly what he said. You have to promise not to make excuses for me though, Bin.”

Changbin pursed his lips as Jisung looked up at him, his eyes rimmed red and filled with determination, though Changbin wasn’t sure if he was ready to find out why Jisung felt this intensity of willpower to share what he had been told. He was about to protest but managed to keep his lips sealed and resorted to a short nod. 

Jisung seemed encouraged by the movement, his fingers that had been nervously fidgeting now putting themselves to use and gesturing along with his words. He was frowning as well, but not the same way he had been; he was thinking now, putting everything into place by speaking about it, so that he could figure out how to solve this issue.

Jisung wondered, as he spoke, whether or not that if he had listened to Changbin and called Chan, he would have been able to fully develop a plan already. 

“Okay, so, Felix told me I was self-centered-”

“You-?”

“Changbin, you promised.”

He sighed. “Right.”

“And, he wasn’t wrong, you know. That’s why… that’s why it was so hard to process, I think. And why I didn’t wanna call Chan, I guess. I didn’t wanna offload all my nerves onto him, because that would just be proving Felix’s words to be truthful, and would be dragging Chan down with me, which is awful to even  _ think _ about. Anyways, he provided me with a few examples and…”

After a few more minutes of quiet discussion about what Felix had said, and how Jisung had come to realise that everything was true (with a side of Changbin vehemently disagreeing only to be eventually persuaded by Jisung’s thought-over reasoning), the pair managed to find their way back to the hotel. Jisung’s tears had long dried by the time he pushed through the revolving doors and his confidence had returned enough for him to lead the way up to the stairs. 

He was walking backward through the foyer so he could use his fingers to count off their conclusions where Changbin could see. “Okay, so, we can agree that my current mindset is problematic, that Felix, you, and of course, the angel upstairs deserve full apologies, and that the best way I can stop this issue from happening again is to start thinking more, and about others as well as my stupid reputation.”

Changbin quickly reached out to prevent Jisung from walking into a man in a business suit that looked rather out of place in the lavender-scented lobby, but as Jisung’s face morphed into one, not unlike a certain hamster meme, he shrugged. “Watch out- sorry, sir. Yeah, sounds about right, Sung.”

Jisung, after getting over his shock, finally turned around to face the receptionist, who shot a smile his way. He dipped his head in response, returning the smile before going back to taking in Changbin’s response. On a normal day of scheming, Jisung would be so lost in his own head that he wouldn’t really be listening to anyone else, even if he had asked for a response. But today was a new day, the first of many observant days to come.

They reached the staircase, one coated in cream-colored carpet edged with violet floral patterns that had become more than familiar to Jisung at this point, probably even more familiar than the smooth concrete of his own kitchen floor back home. Though that may just be on the account that he never really cooks, and is far more likely to drive to Chan’s place and mooch off him than eat takeout in his own dining room.

Jisung lifted a hand to his chin, running a finger over his lower lip as he thought about Minho. He wanted to go to him first, after missing him for so long. He wondered whether he was feeling better today. Wondered what time he should order the food he wanted to take him, or even just a coffee that would barely compensate for the amount of coffee Minho had bought him over the last few weeks. (Okay, so it had only been three coffees, but it meant a lot to Jisung and Minho deserves the world’s supply of coffee, in Jisung’s incredibly humble opinion.)

Checking Minho was okay was top priority. Second priority? An apology, and hopefully an opportunity for Jisung to show that he knew he had made a massive mistake and that he would stop at no end to fix it. 

It is only natural that with his mind racing with thoughts of Minho, some of them slip out of his mouth. 

They’ve just ascended past the first hallway when Jisung speaks to Changbin, who is now walking alongside him lost in thought of his own. “Hey, any update on Minho?”

Changbin blinks back to the present, glancing at Jisung from beneath the still slightly damp black hair being pushed into his eyes by his cap. “Uh, Minho? Oh, right, Lee. I haven’t heard any more about him since Seungmin texted last night. By the sounds of things though, you probably shouldn’t head up to their room until we know for sure he’s awake. The poor kid seems like he’ll need a lot of it.”

Jisung nodded sadly, before playing back what Changbin said in his head. “Hey, isn’t he older than you?”

Changbin shrugged. “If you’re a kid, he’s still a kid too in my eyes.”

Jisung narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything, because it makes him feel a little better about constantly being called a kid by Changbin if he’s in the same league as Minho, because it’s not like he could beat him any other way. After all, Minho’s the one in second. And Jisung is… third. 

Jisung sucked in a breath as they reached their floor, and the violet floral patterning beneath his feet transitioned into sunflowers and leafy green vines. Sunflowers.

“I think I’ll go and see Felix first then.”

Changbin nodded. “Sounds like a plan. You should probably throw on a jacket though, just in case he’s gone into the centre with Maya to try and work out an early flight home with AFO. I can text him first if you want.”

Jisung flinched at the mention of the early flight home. “I- no, I think I need to text him on my own. Do you really… do you really think he’s going home now?”

Changbin paused at the door, before answering with a sigh. “I don’t know, Sung. But he looked pretty done with all this yesterday. I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Jisung grit his teeth. He was going to make it up to his twin, even if it meant he had to drive down an airstrip in his (slightly damaged) car to catch him. “Okay. Well, I’ll message him now.”

After entering the room, Changbin glanced around the room for a moment, thinking about what else he needed to get done today when Jisung’s arms wrapped around his torso from behind him. He didn’t jump at the touch as Jisung probably would have, simply humming in question. “Hmm?”

With his face squished against the soft, grey material of Changbin’s hoodie, resting right between his friend’s shoulder blades, Jisung did his best to get across his gratitude. “I love you so, so much, Bin. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Changbin smiled softly, before unlatching Jisung’s arms so he could turn to face him. He tapped Jisung’s chin, and the younger met his eyes with his own smile bright on his face. “You would be just fine, Sung, just like you are now. You’re the most stubborn person I know and that’s saying a lot, cause I seem to associate with a lot of strong people. You can do this. It’s in your nature.”

Jisung knew, as Changbin pulled away with a final grin and made his way over to tidy the beds, that his friend was talking about more than just bettering himself. He put the pieces together slowly. 

He was stubborn. He could pick himself back up, even if he had fallen to 3rd. And he didn’t have to win  _ anything _ to prove to his friends that he loved them.

Jisung picked up his phone with renewed confidence in himself, to send a message that he hoped would be the start of something new.

. . .

Felix was sitting at the breakfast buffet downstairs with Maia, pushing his plain cereal around his bowl with his spoon, when his phone buzzed in the back pocket of his pajama pants that he hadn’t been bothered changing out of. He considered leaving it for a moment, his first thought that it was just Chris comforting him again, but he couldn’t help but hope that there was a small chance it was Jisung. 

And it was.

** sunshine twin #2 **

_ hey felix _

_ can we meet up? _

Felix refrained from immediately texting back, his eyebrows furrowed due to the amount of effort it took. Sure, Jisung had hurt him  _ badly _ and he had finally spoken his mind, but he was Lee Felix, and Lee Felix couldn’t hold a grudge for the life of him. He wanted nothing more than to talk to Jisung right now, try and find out how Jisung was feeling now about what Felix had said, but he knew it would probably not be appropriate. 

Maia looked up from her eggs and watched as Felix glared at his phone. “Uh… Lix?”

Felix glanced up instantaneously. “Yeah?”

She gestured with her pink finger at his phone with an eyebrow raised. “Who’s texting you? Is it Hye-rim or something?”

Felix blinked in surprise, his long eyelashes shining in the sunlight along with the freckles on his cheeks. Then he shook his head vigorously, and if he wasn't as tired as he was, he may have laughed. “Oh, no. It’s uh…. It’s Jisung.”

Maya was well aware of yesterday’s situation; she kinda had no choice in the matter, as Felix came back to her from the medic’s tent looking like an absolute trainwreck and told her the entire story as he fell sobbing into her arms. Maya didn’t really do emotions well, so it was a confusing time for her, to say the very least. “Ah.”

Felix placed his phone on the table hesitantly, hoping that moving it out of his hands would make him less tempted to reply. He would reply, of course, he just needed to leave it a few minutes. Maybe one minute would suffice. “Yeah. Maya, I don’t really… I want to talk to him. He says he wants to meet up as well. But… is it too soon? I said… I said some terrible stuff but he… I don’t know, what do you think?”

Maya froze as the spotlight was placed on her, her dark eyes widening in surprise. “Who- You’re asking  _ me _ this?”

Felix nodded slowly, looking up at her with puppy eyes that made her even more confused as to what he wanted.

Maya raised her hands in surrender, her fork in surrender. “Dude, I don’t know how to deal with shit like this, you seem to be forgetting I’ve never had friends.”

Felix pleaded, not with words but with the downturn of his lips. 

“Ugh, just talk to him, Felix. Who cares whether it's ‘too early’ or not. Jisung’s not a bad guy, he probably wants to make it up to right now, knowing him. Just say yes. I’ll head back upstairs, just text when you want to head in to the circuit to see the crew.”

Following Maya’s retreat to the stairwell with hesitant eyes, Felix’s foot bounced on the smooth wooden floor with a mixture of nerves and anticipation. The feeling was washed-out in comparison with the roar of volatile emotion he had experienced the day before, but he hoped the raging self-doubt and anxiety he had felt before the Semi-Finals would be something he never had to experience to that extent again. 

He picked up his phone once Maya’s figure had fully disappeared, chewing his lip as he typed a response. 

** sunshine twin #2 **

_ hey felix _

_ can we meet up? _

** me **

_ hey _

_ i think that’s a good idea _

_ i’m in the breakfast dining room _

The response was almost instantaneous.

** sunshine twin #2 **

_ i’ll be there in two if that’s cool with you _

** me **

_ ok _

_ :) _

Felix had a habit of sending overly excited messages even when it wasn't exactly appropriate, which meant it physically pained him to send such a lackluster message, especially accompanied by that  _ awful _ plain smiley face. But despite the fact he was already half on his way to forgiving Jisung, he wasn’t ready to get straight back into sending his favourite, pretty emojis. Jisung was going to have to earn them.

After placing his phone back on the table, Felix didn’t know what to do with his hands. He didn’t feel particularly hungry anymore, and he had already finished his strawberry smoothie, so he couldn’t occupy his hands with anything on the table. He settled for slipping his hands into the pockets of his blue plaid pajama pants and fixed his gaze steadily on the staircase.

True to his word, about two minutes after his message arrived, Felix heard footsteps on the floor above him. He glanced away from the stairs in the hopes that he would be able to look up as Jisung entered and actually look natural doing so, not as though he had spent the last two minutes practicing. 

Felix felt Jisung’s eyes on him almost as soon as the other had descended into the room, and as their gazes met, Felix had to physically stop himself from smiling out of habit. Jisung’s hair was actually almost tidy for once, pushed back off of his forehead so Felix could see the painful remorse in his eyes before Jisung even greeted him. 

Jisung went to tuck his hands into the pockets of his cropped denim jacket only to quickly realise that they didn’t exist. “Uh, h-hey. Hey.”

Felix lifted a hand from his pocket to wave and gestured to the seat across from him. It was unbelievably difficult to treating his friend so coldly. “Hey. You wanna…?”

Jisung gave a tightlipped smile, before making his way over cautiously, clearly trying his best to not disturb the tense atmosphere. Despite his best efforts, however, as he pulled the chair out, it screeched across the floor, and Felix’s willpower dissipated at the mortified expression on Jisung’s face.

He giggled, and Jisung raised his hands to his head. “Geez, I wanted to make a good impression and the first thing I do is kill the floorboards, huh.”

“Y-yeah, we should probably arrange a burial sometime soon.”

Raising his head, Jisung tried another smile on as he sat down, only this one was far more natural. “I’m free next week if you’re free.”

Felix’s tone quietens but his smile doesn't fade. “I think that can be arranged.”

Jisung’s eyes lit up, before his expression sobered a little, apparently remembering what they should probably be discussing. Felix rubbed the back of his neck.

Jisung rested his hands carefully on the glass tabletop, clasped as though they were his own way of holding himself together. Felix couldn’t blame him. “I’m… I’m so, so sorry, Felix. Not just the stuff I said yesterday, but for everything I’ve said in the past as well. I don’t think I’ve ever realised just how focused on myself I am, or how much it affected you, and everyone I care about.”

Felix’s eyes were already watery and Jisung had only just apologised. 

“And you are so important to me, you know? I can’t imagine my world without you, Lix. I can’t imagine my world without any of you guys, and the fact it’s taken me so long to realise that, or at least acknowledge it, I guess, makes me feel…”

Felix finished for him with a whisper. “Like shit.”

“Yeah,” Jisung sighed, “I guess what wanted to tell you today is that I’m going to do my best to be better, yeah? I’m going to divert some of that energy I put into winning every race into making myself a better person- aw, Lix, here.”

Felix sniffed, shaking his head for less than half a second before giving up and placing his hand into Jisung’s upturned one. He wiped his tears away in frustration but laughed quietly. “Ah, geez, Jisung, look what you’ve done to me. God, it’s hard to stay mad at you, you know that? I- man, give me a moment.”

Jisung did exactly that, his heart hurting watching Felix cry over his apology, despite the fact it was far less than what Felix deserved. He squeezed Felix’s hand, and the other squeezed his back as he dabbed his eyes with the material of his sky blue pajama top. 

Felix sucked in a breath and tried to regather his thoughts. Tried to work out how to respond without making his tears worse. Lee Felix was not a crier, but Jisung had managed to reduce him to tears  _ twice _ in the last 48 hours, and you can bet that he was going to speak his mind.

“That means- that means the world to me, Jisung. Just the fact that you’re willing to try is- well, I suppose I shouldn’t expect any less of Han Jisung, should I? You really are the brilliant racer you are because you are prepared to evolve, adapt. I don’t- I don’t even know why I couldn’t have just told you before… how did we get here, Jisung?”

Jisung shrugged with a tentative grin adorning his face, golden in the morning light streaming through the windows that bordered both outward-facing walls of the room. “I don’t know, man. But I needed to hear it at some point, Lix, you just were the first person to break the news to my dumbass.”

Felix laughed again. “Oh man, I’m sorry about that. I suppose, as much as you needed to hear it… I couldn’t have picked a worse time for it, could I? I’m sorry-”

Jisung shook his head. “Nuh-uh, Felix, you don’t get to beat yourself up about that. I was a terrible friend. You had just lost the scariest race of your life and I didn’t even- I couldn’t even see past my insignificant loss.”

“Jisung, your loss wasn’t any less significant than mine. I only said that… whatever I said about it because I was struggling to hold myself together. Yeah, mine is… bad but your loss is just as important. I don’t know exactly how it has impacted you, but I can tell that first place to you is just as meaningful to you as placing was to me.”

Jisung faltered, and Felix could see emotion flitting across his face as he absorbed this apparently new information. Felix didn’t know why Jisung hadn’t been told this already, but again, he was glad he was hearing it now. Everyone’s goals are different.  _ That means everyone’s failures are different, even if some are objectively worse. _

“I… I guess I haven’t thought about it like that. That certainly makes me feel… feel a lot better. How are you feeling, Lix?”

Felix withdrew a hand from where they had them linked to rest his head in them, elbows pressed to the glass. He had had a decent amount of time the night before to consider his next steps, as he hadn't been able to sleep all that well due to the pain and, well, what had gone down during the Semis. “Well… tired. Sore. Sad, as well, but definitely better now. I’m going to stay in Monaco, I think. I wanna be there with you, Bin and Minho for the Finals. And I  _ still _ haven’t met Seungmin, so that’s definitely going to need to happen post-Finals before we head back.”

Jisung beamed at that. “Man, I’m so glad you’re staying! The Finals would have been so lame without you there. Oh and, about Seungmin, if you don’t meet him soon he’ll be Changbin’s fiance before you even have a full conversation.”

Felix laughed. “Are they _ really _ that bad?”

Jisung groaned, slumping against the table. “ _ Yes _ . You should have seen them on Tuesday night when we were setting up, it was  _ disgusting _ …”

Now that they had shifted onto a topic they could take the piss out of, the sunshine twins were sorted for the rest of the morning, chatter coming easily. A sign that everything was going to be okay. The new score for their game was upped to Felix on 12 and Jisung on 7 after Felix agreed to give Jisung a point for scaring the shit out of him the day before. He then proceeded to knock a fork to the floor causing Jisung to nearly fall out of his chair, upping it to 13:7 and widening the gap again. 

Jisung continued to try and get him back all the way up until 11:32 when his phone went off for the fourth time and he actually bothered to check it. 

Jisung narrowed his eyes at Felix’s honey-sweet grin from where he was sitting across the room. The distance between them was a safety measure put in place by Jisung to prevent any further tickling. Reluctantly dragging his eyes away from the threat, Jisung extracted his phone from the depths of his sweatpants.

** binnieboy **

_ yo know’s up and seungmin says that he’s pretty eager to talk to u _

_ [delivered 9:46] _

_ i know u and felix r getting along just fine but jisung r u ok cause the fact that u aren’t sprinting up the stairs to see ur boyfriend is abnormal _

_ [delivered 9:59] _

_ change of plans, minho has a special guest, sung, looks like ur gonna have to wait ur turn _

_ [delivered 10:35] _

** minho <<33 **

_ hey hannie, how are you feeling? _

_ [delivered 11:32] _

Jisung’s mouth fell open at the sight of a new message from the love of his life before he scanned quickly over the messages Changbin had sent him beforehand and realised that he had been with Felix for the past four hours. 

Felix raised an eyebrow at the expression of absolute awe on Jisung’s face. “Oh? Who’s it from?”

Jisung pocketed his phone as he stood, his awe transforming into a grin. “Minho. Oh, and Changbin, but you know, Minho. I should- can I go?”

Felix rolled his eyes. “Fine, leave me for your boyfriend, not as I care.”

Jisung faltered. “Oh-”

“Jisung, I’m messing with you, go get your man. I already have you scheduled in for next week for the funeral of the floorboard you killed, I’m gonna be just fine.”

Jisung’s grin broadened, and he blew Felix a kiss as he walked away. “Love you, Lix. See you later~”

With an expression of disgust, Felix shooed him out from where he was sitting. “Yeah, yeah, love you too.”

It was as Jisung happily raced upstairs, breaking the cocoon that seemed to surround the sunshine twins whenever they were together that Felix realised how late it was, the sun outside the window no longer blinding him from its new location in the sky. He glanced down at his pajamas and murmured. “Yeah, I should probably get changed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> told y'all the soft was coming 😌 and it's certainly not over yet, that's for sure  
> this chapter was definitely therapeutic to write after writing so much angst for so loonggg i missed my boys being happy and although they're still getting there, this is a great way to start, i think  
> also i would say sorry for leaving you on a cliffhanger there but it would be insincere because there is another one coming up :DDDD
> 
> so, I'm back again - i seem to be disappearing a lot lately, but there really is nothing i can do about it for the next month or so... ill try and keep somewhat regular updates coming through over exam season but don't get your hopes up, I'm not all that reliable asgdfhghjhgfd 
> 
> hope you guys enjoyed the chapter and are staying safe and healthy~~~ see you next time <3  
> \------------  
> instagram: oh_cxnada


	29. A Familiar Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was tired, but that wasn’t going to stop him from catching the right taxi. Or at least, that was what he hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everyone's second favourite character has officially arrived~~~ (y'all can't fool me, i know changbin's your favourite)  
> \- unedited and i have no excuse other than the fact I've HAD ENOUGH of this chapter -

He was tired, but that wasn’t going to stop him from catching the right taxi. Or at least, that was what he hoped.

In all honesty, his world was currently pretty blurry, a mix of lack of sleep due to the early flight, plus the car-sickness from his train trip across the country border from Nice in France to Monaco, accompanied by the knowledge that jet-lag would no doubt set in soon. He wasn’t too upset by all of this, though, because if he was lucky he was going to be able to sleep for the next two days if he wanted to.

Though that didn’t help him right now, as he stood on a street in Monte Carlo, a walk from the train station but certainly no closer to the hotel he was going to be ‘escorted’ to. He supposed he should be glad that he doesn’t have to figure out where it is on his own, but it still seemed forced considering how last minute AFO had arranged a taxi trip after he had been planning this for so long.

The morning air was fresh, or as fresh as it could be in the middle of a busy city known for its expensive taste in vehicles especially during the largest formula one event of the year. He tilted his head back, his tired eyes fluttering shut as he let the breeze ruffle his hair.

His knuckles loosened around his suitcase slightly as he allowed himself to take a deep breath.  _ You’re really here. Well, nearly. _

Three taxis pulled up to the curb of the street over the course of the next five minutes, all of which were headed towards the city centre, and had never heard his name before. As he watched the third black sedan’s tail lights blink into the distance, only standing out due to the purple lighting of the early morning, he wondered faintly whether his taxi driver would actually know his name, or if he was going to step into one and receive some sort of introduction to the world of racing blasting at full volume and just  _ know _ that this was the right car.

It seemed like something AFO would do, those assholes.

He had hoped to pay for this entire trip on his own; he had been saving up for a full year now, and he had hoped more than anything that it would all go to plan. It had, apart from the part where he was convinced by his friend that he should be picked up from the train station by an organization taxi. So, despite how much he hated AFO and how they treated their racers as though they were nothing more than pieces on a chessboard, here he was.

Watching as a white eco-taxi slid up next to him on the curb.

He went to approach the window of the vehicle when the door opened and a man stepped out. He squinted against the half-assed darkness for a moment to realise that he had extended a hand for his suitcase. “You’re headed to XXXX Hotel, right? For Kim Seungmin?”

He nodded quickly, handing the shorter man his suitcase. He was beyond glad that he sounded so nice. The sound of Seungmin’s name after hearing nothing but unfamiliar and foreign words for the past ten hours encouraged him to remain polite and courteous despite how tired he was. _ Nearly there.  _ “Yes, that’s me.”

“Cool, cool. I’ll load this into the back and then we’re off. Feel free to sit anywhere.”

He murmured a relieved thank you, nodding his head as he shifted away with his heavy suitcase, before leaning forward and fumbling for a door handle. After finding one, it took him seconds to settle himself in the back seat, his body grateful for the new, far more comfortable seat and expressing it’s gratitude by going limp almost immediately. He sighed.

It was only minutes after the vehicle started moving again that he fell asleep for the first time since he got off the plane, his pretty face mushed against the tinted glass of the window and his arms crossed across his chest. He slept for the hour it took to reach the hotel, where he was awoken by a combination of both the sunrise finally ending (and the world brightening significantly in its wake) and the gentle rocking of the vehicle coming to a stop.

He sat up with a start, and took a moment to register where he was before he set about wiping the sleep from his face and rearranging his blond ponytail only for more strands to fall into his face. He sighed, but decided it would have to do.

The taxi driver glanced in the rearview mirror, making kind eye contact before talking. “So, will Mr Kim be meeting you here soon or would you like me to wait a moment?”

He faltered for a moment, trying not to laugh at the fact that people genuinely called Seungmin Mr. Kim unironically, before remembering he had been asked a question. He smiled sheepishly. “Uh, could you maybe… as long as it's not inconvenient, do you think you could wait for me until he gets here? I haven’t texted him yet this morning.”

The driver smiled. “Sure. Just tell me when you’re ready to leave. I’m sure you’re tired after your journey here.”

How did AFO hire such nice people? This was certainly not the kind of service he had been expecting, but he couldn’t be happier. “Thank you so much.”

**me**

_ im hereeeee _

_ was wondering if you could meet me out front so i dont have to talk to anyone at reception for directions because i am a MESS _

Seungmin’s reply only took a minute to arrive.

**dandy boi**

_ I’ll be there in two minutes, Minho’s still sleeping and I don’t wanna wake him up by being loud. _

_ [delivered 8:35] _

He grinned at the messages, before looking up to the taxi driver. “Okay, I’m good to go.”

Within a minute, the car was gone, and he’s standing alone on the footpath, looking up at the cozy looking hotel with his suitcase resting by his feet. His coat, despite being as thick as it was, billowed in the air as he held up his phone to take a picture. His hands grip his phone through the fabric of his knit turtleneck that he had layered beneath the coat, another precaution to protect him against the coolness of the cooler weather. It wasn’t that cold, but it was certainly cooler than it was in America where everything felt like it was on fire at the moment.

Satisfied with his photo, he lowered his arm to lean against the lamp post and browse his gallery. This venture was almost immediately interrupted by a person stepping through the revolving doors of the hotel.

“A mess, huh? You’re a liar, Hwang Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin pocketed his phone, the beam on his face growing wider as Seungmin walked towards him looking skeptical but clearly over the moon to see his friend. Hyunjin closed the space between them with a few steps and wrapped Seungmin into a tight hug which Seungmin accepted willingly. He melted into the hug with uncharacteristic eagerness that caused Hyunjin to wonder just what had happened yesterday at the Semi Finals. “Hey, I never said me being a mess meant that I looked bad. Ugh, I missed you so much, Minnie.”

Seungmin pulled back, and Hyunjin got to study his friend's face properly for the first time in a month. Seungmin was clearly much happier – maybe tired as well, but so was Hyunjin. He could imagine it had been a rather stressful few week. “I missed you too, Jinnie. How was your flight? Here, let me take that for you-”

Hyunjin, despite his world still being ever so slightly blurry, had shifted into the next stage of tiredness. The eager, delirious stage, and he hoped that it would last him at  _ least _ until lunch time, because it would be kind of lame if he had to go to sleep before he could surprise Minho.

They discussed his journey as they climbed the pretty stairwell to the floor Seungmin and Minho stayed on, and Hyunjin tried not to freak out as Seungmin informed him that Jisung was also staying on this floor. Inevitably, Hyunjin’s delirium was forced to sober a bit as they reached the door and Seungmin gave him a brief rundown of what had happened the day before.

Seungmin leant awkwardly against the closed door as he offered context as to why Minho needed more sleep. “So… you are aware of the results from yesterday, right?”

Hyunjin nodded, his ponytail bouncing endearingly along with the movement. “Yeah, they were weird. Minho beat Jisung, right? For second place?”

Seungmin winced. “Uh… kind of. Jisung experienced a… from what Binnie- Changbin has told me, it was an anxiety attack of sorts and wiped out on the final corner, nearly taking Minho with him. And that triggered a relapse, one of the worst Minho’s ever had, I believe.”

Hyunjin’s smile fell completely, his words coming out a whisper. “Oh no.”

Seungmin nodded. “Yeah. It’s shit. He had the shakes all of yesterday evening, even when he finally went to sleep, and… yeah, he’s been in and out of it since 12:00. So, we’re going to go in  _ quietly _ and wait in the living space until he wakes up… hopefully that won’t be for a while. Oh! When do you want to unpack?”

Hyunjin snaps his eyes back from absently observing the door number to Seungmin’s face and trying to process the information. “Oh… uh, I’m staying in 113, right? Why don’t we just go there?”

Seungmin blinked as though the thought just occurred to him. “You know what… yeah, lets do that. I’ll just go and write him a note, okay?”

“Sounds good, Minnie. I’ll wait. Wouldn’t want to get lost again.”

“Again?”

“... Yeah, I’ll explain later.”

. . .

_ It’s bright. _

Minho’s thoughts were scrambled as he sat up in his bed, feeling heavy and clogged with sleep. His limbs took a few moments to respond as they woke up in suit, his arms lifting his limp hands so he could rub at least  _ some  _ of the sleep from his system as he tried to form a coherent sentence that told him a little more than  _ it’s bright. _

After a few moments of patting his face awake, he opened his eyes slowly and found he was alone in the hotel room.

_ Huh. What’s the time? _

The fabric of his faded black t-shirt clung to his skin, damp from sweat that usually was a consequence of his panic attacks, which usually entails cold sweat and shaking, accompanied by night terrors the following evenings (presuming they don’t happen during the night). However, Minho couldn’t recall, much about the day before, and was happy to say that he had slept like a rock the night before, sleeping almost as soon as he got back to the hotel due to the fact that both his brain and his body were shutting down. So… why was he so tired?

Minho’s next thought, the one that came after  _ I need a shower _ and  _ what happened yesterday? _ was  _ oh right, the time. _

He ran a hand through his hair, before cautiously tilting his head to settle his gaze on the alarm clock on the dresser, hoping to figure out whether or not his neck should be added to the list of pain in the, well, least painful way possible. Luckily, despite a suspiciously loud crack, Minho’s neck was free of pain, and it was 9:45.

_ Hmmm. Okay. _

His brain took a moment to process the connotations of the golden clock hands set into the crisp white porcelain, and as he thought, he reached out a hand to select the pair of nausea pills on the dresser, accompanied by a glass of water that he soon discovered was lukewarm. He popped them into his dry mouth and downed the water in a way that would probably earn a face of disgust from Seungmin or Hyunjin.

That was understandable, Minho reasoned, considering that although he had yet to recount what  _ he _ had on for the day of the aftermath, Seungmin would probably have left early for some manager meeting, as he did most mornings. However, as things began coming back to Minho, he remembered that Seungmin tended to avoid sleeping to look after him after his breakdowns, and also that yesterday had been the Semi-Finals of the Monaco Grand Prix.

Minho froze, his tired eyes widening and his hand quickly halting its motion of pulling back the covers as the imagery spiralled into his vision at full force.

Twisting colours in the crowd of flags from all countries, flashing promotions of the billboards around the track. Everything that happened pre-race came first; it appeared Minho’s conscious had been collected enough to organise the events into chronological order.

After the memory of the interview before the track, the breezy talk with Jordan and Jisung’s smile, everything was far more blurry, the race in hyper speed as Minho’s brow furrowed in concentration.

Ah- he had pulled off the late brake. A smile crept onto his face as he remembered the moment with satisfaction, one that only got wider as he recounted other significant improvements he had made to his mentality during the race but fell immediately when he recalled the final activation zone, and then the obnoxious red car in front of him spark against the track as its tire gave way, before spinning out around him.

_ Jisung _ .

Minho didn’t have to think much further than that to figure out why he had woken up to a sweat-soaked shirt and a trembling body. What he did want to think about, however, was where the heck Seungmin was.

“S-Seungmin?” The words came out croaky, not that Minho had expected any different, but it did mean he had to repeat them. “Seungmin?”

He paused for a few moments. There was no reply.

_ Seungmin wouldn’t leave without saying anything, especially not after- ah, of course he left a note. _

Minho’s nerves were almost immediately trodden as he spotted the sticky note on the floor-to-ceiling mirror on the other side of the room. Minho didn’t want to think to hard about what Seungmin’s placement suggested about how Seungmin thought Minho behaved. Minho had, on many occasions, expressed his disdain for those who spent their lives in front of mirrors, so Seungmin at this point was doing it on purpose.

Hesitantly, Minho’s feet found purchase on the soft, grey carpet, surprisingly confident in their painlessness. The same could not be said for the rest of his body as he limped slowly to the mirror, gritting his teeth as his fingers latched onto the note. Minho probably would have cursed Seungmin mentally but he was going to have to get up eventually, he supposed.

_ Hey Know :) _

_ I hope you’re feeling better when you wake up, I know yesterday was a bit of a disaster (except for your racing, of course. 2nd place!!) _

_ I left you some nausea pills on the dresser and there’s some painkillers in the bathroom if you need them for your legs. I’m downstairs with a friend - you should come down when you’re ready. _

- _ SM _

Minho raised an eyebrow as he braced himself against the cool glass, his eyes running over the loopy handwriting a second time through so that the words settled in properly. Seungmin had said ‘friend’, but Minho was 90% sure that at this point, the only person Seungmin liked in this world is Changbin, so the lack of ‘boy’ in front of the ‘friend’ made Minho curious.  _ Jeongin, maybe? Haven’t seen him since prelims… _

At the thought of prelims, Minho was jolted into another memory from the same day, one where Jisung had made prolonged eye contact before hesitantly dropping his gaze from across the track. And then, of course, came the reminder that Jisung had crashed the day before, right after (genuinely) smiling at him for the first time in a week.

_ Is Jisung okay? _

Minho knew he had to do something to stop himself from charging out of the hotel room in an old shirt and boxers to find the room Jisung was staying in to find out if he was safe, so he distracted himself by stumbling back to his bed, grabbing his phone with more energy than his aching limbs could fully control, and texted Seungmin all of his concerns.

After leaving all the questions sitting in Seungmin’s inbox, Minho forced himself to take a breath, before his gaze fell on the bathroom door. Maybe a shower would help him wake up more, distract him while he anxiously awaited reply.  _ Then _ he would find out where Jisung was and make sure that his smile was still in place. 

. . .

Minho found that after he emerged from the steam of the marble-floored bathroom, his damp hair clinging to his forehead and his skin cleared of all grime of the day before, his mind had slipped back into place as well, the cogs now whirring into action.

However, now that his brain was beginning to work as it should, his worry for Jisung was now increased, along with the realisation of just how enormous yesterday was. He had come  _ second _ . He was into the Finals.

He tugged on boxers, grey sweats and one of endless amounts of branded black tops he brought with him, before angling his navigation course directly back to his phone where it sat on his duvet.  _ Surely _ Seungmin hadn’t been so caught up with Jeongin that he still hadn’t answered after ten minutes (okay, maybe five minutes) of Minho’s patient waiting.

**kim seungmin**

_ what happened to hello huh _

_ no but fr know how are you feeling? _

__

**me**

_ im fine _

_ how’s jisung though? and you? _

__

**kim seungmin**

_ i think we should probably talk in person _

_ WAIT THAT SOUNDS OMINOUS i promise jisung’s okay _

_ also fine? _

__

**me**

_ yeah im fine just a bit sore _

_ im coming _

_ you’re with innie right? _

__

**kim seungmin**

_ uh no, actually _

_ come to room 113, theres a surprise _

__

**me**

_ … _

_ thats even more ominous, seungmin _

_ you better have a good explanation _

__

**kim seungmin**

_ ;) _

__

**me**

_ ur reminding me of jin rn _

_ thats not a good thing _

__

**kim seungmin**

_ hehe _

Okay, so that’s weird and very unlike Seungmin. Minho almost did a double take at the sight of the ‘ _ hehe’  _ on his screen, and upon reading it in his head with Seungmin’s voice for a second time he deducted that Seungmin is terrible at keeping secrets when he is excited, and that this series of messages implied that the person downstairs with Seungmin is Hyunjin.

Minho scoffed as he grabbed his room keys and slides. There was literally no way Hyunjin was in Monaco.

Minho  _ wished  _ it was possible. He had been wishing that since day one, all the way back at prelims, but with all of the money he had left tied up in the car and transportation fees for shipping to be made halfway across the world, and Hyunjin’s tied into his dance and his college, there was no financial way that he could have made it.

So as he walked down the stairs, drifting passed a couple in the hallway and scanning numbers on door fronts, Minho tried to figure out why else Seungmin would be acting so suspicious. Because there was no way Hyunjin was here.

  1. _110…_



Maybe Seungmin and Changbin were announcing their engagement? Nah, there’s no way. Its only been two weeks, and despite the fact that the pair of them acted like a disgustingly loving married couple every time they were together, Minho knew that neither of them were the type to rush things. Both of them seemed so strangely functional that it worried Minho sometimes.

_ 111, 112… _

Why was he going to a hotel room anyway? Surely, Seungmin wouldn’t invite him to meet a friend that he didn’t even know right? Not after how tired they both were from the day before. So who was it?

_ 113 _ .

Minho tucked one hand into his pocket as he built up the courage to knock on the door, far more unwilling to do so than he normally would be now that he had hyper focused on the fact that he had  _ no idea  _ what was behind it. The hand in his pocket fiddled with the cool metal keyring as he raised his fist hesitantly and rattled it against the cream coloured wood.

The sound of footsteps was immediate, and Minho swallowed nervously. 

Then the door opened to reveal a red rose themed suite and a very dazed looking Seungmin, who’s smile stretched wider when he confirmed it was Minho at the doorway Minho didn’t have time to process anything else about the suite before Seungmin wrapped him into a hug, reaffirming the notion that his friend was behaving unusually and probably needed to get some sleep.

Minho smiled and tapped Seungmin’s shoulder awkwardly. “You good?”

“I’m great, Know, I’m great,” Seungmin pulled back and Minho didn’t have to study Seungmin’s face for very long to notice the way the corner of his eyes were drooping slightly, and the normally creamy skin beneath his eyes had darkened. Seungmin hadn’t slept.

Minho narrowed his eyes. “You don’t look great. Who’s been keeping you up?”

“You, actually. I was worried, Know.”

The guilt set in. “Oh. I’m sor-”

Seungmin rolled his eyes, ruffling Minho’s damp hair with his hand dismissively. “Don’t be dumb, it’s not your fault, Minho. You don’t need to apologise for it. Besides, its probably better that I didn’t sleep anyways or I wouldn’t have been up so early to come here- I probably would have missed it, and then the surprise wouldn’t have been as dramatic. And H- no one wants that”

At the reminder in Seungmin’s words, Minho glanced around the room again. “Where is here, exactly?”

Seungmin waved for Minho to follow him. “You’re about to find out.”

“This is so dodgy, Kim.”

Seungmin held the door to the next room open for him, mimicking Minho’s words before silencing him. “Oh, shut up.”

Minho offered him a greasy smile. Then he turned his attention back to the room he was entering and mentally prepared himself to meet a new person, or to be jump-scared by Jeongin.

The room shared the same theme as the bed room that had been in the entrance of the suite, all deep reds accented with gold and roses. Judging by the couches, the tv and the lack of benches, Minho deducted that this was a living room, and someone was on the couch facing away from him.

He grit his teeth, tucking his hands into his pockets in an attempt to appear casual to whoever was sprawled out on the couch, their feet swinging back and forth off the end of it. Seungmin nearly scared the shit out of him by slinging an arm around his shoulder and clearing his throat.

Minho took this as his cue to speak. “Uh… hi?”

The person’s socked feet immediately froze in place, and then a familiar face popped up over the edge of the couch.

Hyunjin beamed.

Minho’s mouth dropped open in shock.

_ What the fu- _

In what seemed like seconds (but could have been hours, considering Minho was having a hard time grasping reality, let alone feeble concepts like time), Hyunjin’s arms were wrapped around him, hugging Minho’s body to his in a tight embrace that Minho normally would have protested. But today was different.

Minho raised his hands gingerly to hug his best friend back, his eyes still wide and disbelieving. “H… Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin squeezed him impossibly tighter, laughing into Minho’s shoulder and sending vibrations through Minho’s body that assured him that Hyunjin was not just a hologram. He was really here. In  _ Monte Carlo _ . “Hey, Champ. How you going?”

_ Yeah no. _ “Okay, off me,” Minho’s smile grew as he pried Hyunjin’s arms from where they were tightly wrapped around him, “I missed you but not enough for me to take back the nickname rule, Hyunjin.”

“Awwww, you’re no fun, gramps~”

Minho couldn’t help but smile even wider as Hyunjin pouted at him, his arms easily long enough to close the gap that Minho had created between them but instead decided to dangle uselessly in the air, flopping occasionally at Minho as Hyunjin tried to coerce Minho back into the hug. It took a lot of mental and physical willpower to keep the space between them so wide. “What are you- no, how are you here? And what have you done to your  _ hair _ ?”

Seungmin snorted as he shifted to sit down on one of the couches, leaving the pair of them to have their reunion while he went back to tending to his messages. “Both equally important questions.”

Hyunjin raised a hand to his blonde hair, now wavy as it had been released from it’s ponytail, and gaped at Minho. “What do you mean, ‘what have I done’? I look even sexier than usual with my golden locks-“

Minho pulled a face. “You’re so annoying.”

“I- do you want me to just fly home?”

“…yes.”

“YOU-“

After about ten minutes of playful banter, much to Tired Seungmin’s disdain, the friends had relocated to the couch, where Hyunjin returned to where he was stretched out on the velvet cushions, only this time he lay on Seungmin’s lap. He may have fought harder for the solo armchair if it weren’t for the fact his opponent was actually happy to see him for once.

Hyunjin discussed his trips there, and retold the story of how he had lost his bags at the train station only to find them after searching for almost twenty minutes in the exact spot he had left them. Hyunjin was 90% sure that a thief had regretted their actions after seeing the name of Hwang Hyunjin, very famous college student and dance major, though Minho was pretty confident that Hyunjin was just blind.

Minho hummed in thought. “So AFO bought the plane and train tickets for you to get here then, I’m assuming?”

Hyunjin shook his head, an action that caused Seungmin to tut as Hyunjin’s hair tickled his bare thighs. “Nah. I’ve been saving up.”

Even with Hyunjin’s new jobs that he picked up here and there, Minho could have sworn there would have been no way Hyunjin would have been able to save up enough money to fly to France and cross the borders in the few weeks’ notice they had that Minho’s game had finally picked up. That he was finally back in the running.

“Wait, really? You- The money from your jobs… how long?”

Hyunjin counted off on his fingers the various extents he had gone to over the last year to be able to afford the trip to Monte Carlo. “The money from my jobs, and the stuff I won at the dance show last year. I knew you were going to bounce back, so it wasn’t  _ that _ risky of an investment. You always do.”

_ Oh. _

Hyunjin had trusted him. Hyunjin had seen the crash, seen it’s effects, seen his placings all year round and he’d  _ still _ continued to save money over the last year, all to see Minho in Monaco, just because he trusted he was going to take place. He believed in him.

This shouldn’t have surprised Minho. It was the most Hyunjin thing he could have done. But Minho was tired, and that was why his eyes were tearing up. There really was no other reason- not that Minho actually felt incredibly emotional, or anything.

Minho squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why’re you like this, Jin?”

Seungmin looked up from his phone and smiled as Hyunjin slid off his lap, quickly making his way over to Minho on his knees at the sight of his friend in distress.

Hyunjin knelt down fully in front of him and cupped Minho’s face with his palms, grinning as Minho opened his teary eyes to meet his gaze with an emotion that was meant to be anger but was in reality, far from it. “Who’s the loser now, Know?”

Minho was too happy to slap him, laughing as his eyes watered even more dangerously than before. “Fuck off, Hwang, it’s always you.”

The smug grin remained plastered to Hyunjin’s face even as Minho tugged his head away and rubbed his eyes frustratedly. Seungmin shook his head at them. “You two are so strange.”

“Aw, wanna group hug, Minnie?”

Seungmin shook his head even more violently, uncrossing his legs in preparation for his inevitable escape. “Absolutely not, stay away from me you fiend.”

Because Hwang Hyunjin is Hwang Hyunjin, he took this answer as a ‘yes please, I love painful hugs so much’ and made his way directly to Seungmin (still on his knees, of course), and considering how tired Minho could tell that both of them were, the chase scene was rather anticlimactic, with Seungmin giving up before he even stood. He sighed as Hyunjin hugged his leg, preventing any further attempts to escape. “I should never have left Korea.”

Minho, once he was thoroughly sure that his eyes no longer contained any bothersome tears, cleared his throat. “So, you knew this entire time then, Seungmin? That this idiot was going to waste all his money coming here?”

Seungmin nodded, patting Hyunjin’s head where it was rested on his knees. “Kinda. He told me back in June about it and refused to accept any help, but I guess he didn’t need it. Oh, except for the AFO ride from the station,” his smug smile was not unlike the one Hyunjin wore earlier, “that was all me.”

Hyunjin groaned. “Noooo, it doesn’t sound as cool if I didn’t do it all on my own.”

Seungmin shrugged, not breaking eye contact with Minho despite the fact that Hyunjin was the one he was talking to. “I don’t really care, to be honest.”

“Why did I even come here? You two are the meanest people I know.”

Minho nodded in silent agreement. He  _ was _ pretty mean. Seungmin, however, made his agreement verbal. “Agreed. You must be pretty dumb, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin promptly released Seungmin’s legs, his head of blonde hair lifting from Seungmin’s knobbly knees as he flopped to the ground, with a mournful expression on his face. “How am  _ I  _ the single one? God, maybe I have to start insulting people more…”

Ah, right, Minho isn’t single anymore. Minho has a  _ boyfriend _ . And Minho’s pretty confident that that boyfriend is probably not in the best state right now.

As Minho had his realisation, it appeared that Seungmin was having one of his own. His phone pinged for the seven hundredth time that morning, and Seungmin was quick to pick it up from where it rested on the arm of the chair.

Hyunjin and Minho both glanced at their friend’s expression as it morphed from a worried frown into a dizzy smile and made eye contact, rolling their eyes at Seungmin’s clearly infatuated state.

“Who’s that, Seungminnie?”

Seungmin hummed absentmindedly in reply as he typed something out. “Mmm.”

Hyunjin laughed. “Oh my god, you’re so whipped, Min.”

Seungmin’s attention flipped to Hyunjin at the sound of his name. “Sorry? What did you say?”

Minho leaned back into his chair, crossing his arms across his chest. “Better start getting used to it, Hwang. They’ll be married in a month.”

This connected the dots for Seungmin, who promptly flushed. “Shut up.”

Hyunjin grinned. “So, am I going to get to meet Changbin today? Or will I just have to meet him at the wedding?”

Seungmin rolled his eyes, using his feet to push Hyunjin away from where he lay on the ground. “Go away,” and then after a few moments, in a quieter voice, “he’s wondering if he can come and see me now.”

Both Minho and Hyunjin laughed at that, so loudly that Seungmin couldn’t even match their volume with his aggressive shushing. Hyunjin rolled over, wheezing. “That-that’s beautiful- you two are so in  _ love _ I- tell him yes, tell him yes.”

Minho clutched his stomach, even as his laughter tapered out. 

Seungmin pouted, crossing his legs. “I hate you guys.”

. . .

When Changbin did show up, Seungmin read out the text before offering to answer the door instead of the other two.

Quickly figuring out that Seungmin was going to try and escape with Changbin if he was the one to answer the door, Hyunjin held him in place by rising from his place on the floor and trapping Seungmin by wrapping his arms around his torso as the other tried to leave the room, and pulling him back down onto the couch to sit on his lap.

Not the most conventional, considering that Seungmin’s  _ boyfriend _ was about to walk in to see his significant other on the lap of a stranger, but Minho was interested to see what happened next.

Seungmin deflated after a few moments of struggle, settling for squashing Hyunjin. “Fine. Minho, can you go let him in? He’s almost here.”

Minho nodded, the smile on his face fading slightly. From what he could tell, considering the whole ‘pause’ thing, Changbin didn’t like him all that much. He seemed… nice enough, though. Anyone who Jisung made the choice to associate with couldn’t be all bad.

As he stood, he realised that Changbin probably knew how Jisung was doing better than anyone. And he probably knew whether Jisung wanted to see him or not.

Minho had just walked through to the next room when a series of knocks came from the closed door. He dusted down his shirt, hoping that he looked reasonably put together, before opening the door.

Changbin looked more rested than Seungmin did, but Minho didn’t know his face well enough to say whether or not that that assumption is correct. The younger male’s dark hair seemed longer than normal, on the top at least, his fringe messy and brushed out of his eyes but threatening to fall back down. Changbin had a pair of eyes that almost always made it look like he was glaring at someone or something, but the slight smile on his face contrasted them. “Hey.”

Minho tried to smile politely back, though now inexplicably nervous. “Hi. Uh, Seungmin’s just in the next room.”

Changbin pulled his hands from the pockets of his dark cargo pants, smiling more as he entered the room. “Thanks. How are you?”

“Huh? Oh, pretty… pretty good. You?”

Despite the fact that the reply was a common response to being questioned on one’s wellbeing, Changbin still appeared slightly surprised by the fact that Minho was returning the gesture. “I’m… well, I’m better than last night, that’s for sure. I’d say Jisung is significantly better as well.”

They shifted from the doorway as they spoke, as though both deciding against extending the conversation for any longer than necessary, although it was going far better than Minho had predicted. Maybe Changbin  _ didn’t _ hate him as much as he thought.

“Do you think he would be okay with… me going to see him? If he’s doing okay?”

Changbin’s lopsided smile presented itself at that, knowledgeable in a way that Minho couldn’t really describe. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

Without another word, Changbin stepped through the doorway into the next room, with Minho quick to follow when he realised that it would be strange for him to freeze and contemplate Changbin’s words for the next ten seconds.  _ I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. _

Seungmin was still seated firmly on top of Hyunjin when the new visitor entered the living room, as both Changbin and Minho could see the top of his head where he had it flopped against the back of the velvety chair. And as Hyunjin was a giant in Minho’s eyes, his head of (interestingly) blonde hair was also visible, though tilted to the side as he studied something he was most likely holding in his hand.

“Hyunjin, let him go, his boyfriend’s here.”

Seungmin jolted upright at that, twisting in Hyunjin’s hold. His entire face lit up at Changbin’s confused form in the doorway next to Minho. “Bin!”

Probably out of pure curiosity alone, considering there really is no other reason Hyunjin would ever listen to Minho, Seungmin was released and Hyunjin turned to excitedly analyse the man who their friend was in love with.

Minho couldn’t but smile at the sight of Seungmin so eager, even if he had been accidently knocked out of the way in Seungmin’s rush to wrap his arms around Changbin. Seungmin never let himself be vulnerable unless it was completely unavoidable; although Minho would never admit it out loud, it made him happy that Seungmin had someone he could feel comfortable around.

Changbin let out a surprised noise as his taller boyfriend launched himself into his arms, but recovered far faster than Minho could have, smiling as Seungmin sighed into his shoulder. “Thank goodness you’re here. These two are driving me insane.”

Minho shifted back to his chair, flicking Hyunjin in the forehead and earning an outraged gasp as Changbin replied with a raised eyebrow. “I presume you’re Hyunjin, then?”

Hyunjin, who was currently only visible to Changbin from his eyes up, sat up straighter at the mention of his name, his roaming gaze settling firmly on Changbin’s face, his curiosity satisfied for the meantime. He grinned. “Yeah, that’s me. Seungmin talks a lot about me, I presume?”

Changbin rubbed a circle on Seungmin’s back, leaning against the doorframe to support both he and his boyfriend’s weight. He seemed perfectly content with going along with the joke, much to Minho’s surprise. He had pictured Changbin in his head to be far different from the one in front of him.

“Oh, he does, trust me. Hyunjin this, Hyunjin that. He’s definitely in love with you, without a doubt.”

Hyunjin’s grin grew wider. “I like this guy, Minnie.”

Seungmin groaned, laxing further into Changbin’s gentle embrace. “Jeez, maybe I should go to bed. I’ve had enough of all of you for one day.”

Changbin’s expression sobered at the mention of sleep, and Minho began to wonder just  _ how _ much sleep Seungmin had missed the night before. Seungmin didn’t seem all to keen on leaving Changbin’s arms any time soon, which the other manager seemed to understand, wrapping an arm around Seungmin’s waist as a few more words were exchanged before Changbin announced he was walking with Seungmin back to he and Minho’s hotel room.

Seungmin was half asleep against the denim of Changbin’s jacket-clad shoulder when Changbin spoke. “It’s great to meet you, Hyunjin. I should probably get this one to bed, but I hope we’ll meet again soon.”

Seungmin hummed after the final statement, whether in agreement or protest, Minho couldn’t tell.

Hyunjin nodded, his smile never falling. “It was nice to meet you too. I’m glad that you’re here to take care of Seungminnie, cause I doubt he would listen to either of us.”

Minho nodded in agreement, his eyes flickering from Hyunjin to where Seungmin was propped up against Changbin’s sighed and smiling slightly.

“Well, we’ll go now- oh, Minho, Jisung isn’t replying to me, but his schedule is free for the rest of the day.”

Minho recognised the statement as somewhat unspoken permission, Changbin encouraging him. Rooting for Minho, even if he didn’t know him that well yet. Minho hoped that that would change over the following months, years. Hopefully.

He met Changbin’s gaze, and the corners of his mouth twisted into a wider smile, one that matched the one in Changbin’s eyes. And then the pair departed, leaving Minho and Hyunjin hanging in odd angles off of their respective couches and wondering where the time had gone.

Hyunjin started from where he was draped over the arm of the sofa, nearly dropping his phone as he exclaimed. “11:30?! Dude, I swear it was 9:05 the last time we checked!”

Minho stretched his arms above his head, speaking before a yawn escaped his mouth. “Well, what were you planning on doing for the rest of the day anyways?”

Raising his head as he hummed in thought, Hyunjin switched his phone into his other hand, the hard, purple cover making a muted noise as it knocked against his ringed fingers. He closed his eyes, now slumped so far over the arm that his hands (and phone) were a few centimetres from brushing the carpet. “Hmm… sleeping. Yeah, that sounds good.”

_ Ah, right _ . Hyunjin had travelled all the way from America just to see him. It was still hard to absorb that Hyunjin was really here, after so many days of convincing himself that it was impossible. “Well then, you go ahead and sleep, and I’ll go out-”

“Oh, how the tables have turned.”

Minho narrowed his eyes at his friend's face, as although it was half covered due to the fact that Hyunjin’s face was resting against the armchair, a shit-eating grin was still visible. “Tread carefully, Hwang.”

Hyunjin giggled at that, evidently in great need of sleep. “Oooo, he’s so scary- get out of my hotel room and go see your boyfriend, lover boy.”

Minho stood menacingly, and as though just realising the meaning behind his words, Hyunjin yelped and retreated to the other end of the larger couch in a split second, his paralysed frame suddenly fully mobile again as he raised his arms to fight back. It took a second for Minho’s intimidating deadpan to lift into a half-smile, one that was probably more familiar to Hyunjin than it was to Minho himself.

“Such a scaredy-cat, Jin, seriously,” Minho ran his hand along the back of the sofa as he headed towards the doorway at the back of the room, and his tone changed as he reached the end, raising an eyebrow as Hyunjin looked up at him with cautious eyes, “but if you ever call me lover boy again, I’ll be sure to find the nearest tissues.”

Hyunjin’s nose scrunched up at the memory of the last time the tissues had been shoved into his mouth and decided quickly that he would not be continuing with that nickname. ”Okay, got it, no more lover boy. What about-”

Minho patted his head. “No. Get some sleep, Hwang.”

“But-“

“…”

“Fine. Hey, haven’t I kicked you out already? Get your flat ass out of here.”

Minho chose to ignore the insult, considering it wasn’t exactly incorrect, and made his way out of the room though not before speaking his gratefulness. He turned back slightly, speaking over his shoulder even though Hyunjin couldn’t see him from where he was lying. “I’m… I’m really glad you’re here, Jin.”

Hyunjin’s hand appeared over the back of the couch, a finger-heart present. “I love you too, Know. Good luck.”

_ I’m gonna need it. _

. . .

**me**

_ hey hannie, how are you feeling? _

_ [delivered 11:32] _

**hannie**

_ sadgffefdsghs _

_ great now that im talking to you ;) _

_ wait that was too far _

_ sorry _

_ im good :)))))) _

_ [delivered 11:33] _

__

**me**

_ it wasnt too far, dont worry _

_ cause same :) _

__

**hannie**

_ fgnhugjfrdkg _

_ my heart is beating so fast _

__

**me**

_ haha _

_ cute _

**hannie**

_ HAHA _

_ anyWAY _

_ are you free rn? _

**me**

_ yeah _

_ was just gonna find out if you wanted to meet up and go out for lunch or smth actually _

**hannie**

_ that’s great!!! _

_ I wanted to talk to you anyway, you deserve| _

_ [unsent] _

__

_ if its cool with you, id love to :DDD _

**me**

_ and I love you| _

_ [unsent] _

__

_ of course, I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to, hannie _

_ where are u rn? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> seungjin's reunion: aww i missed you so much 🥺💖  
> hyunho's reunion: EW WTF FLY HOME BITCH 🤢🔪😠🤬
> 
> did she abandon you guys for another month? yes, yes she did  
> did she come back with anoTHER cliffhanger? hell yeah she did  
> I am: so sorry,,, this chapter literally took me two weeks to write even though i planned it all out before exams and i have no idea why? im blaming hyunjin just because i have NO IDEA how to write his character so please, accept this garbage while I try and figure out the rest of this fic😌😌  
> seriously though mad respect to y'all for putting up with me and thank you for the ongoing support, love every single one of you <3
> 
> hope you enjoyed the update and hopefully ill see you guys again soon! xoxo
> 
> \-----------  
> Instagram: oh_cxnada


	30. The Promised Ramyun Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn’t cold, by mid-afternoon. It certainly wasn’t cold in the lobby of the hotel, as Minho descended into the lavender lined room, his hands in his pockets again to continue his attempt at nonchalance, despite the fact his heart was racing and he was practically bouncing with nerves. 

It wasn’t cold, by mid-afternoon. It certainly wasn’t cold in the lobby of the hotel, as Minho descended into the lavender lined room, his hands in his pockets again to continue his attempt at nonchalance, despite the fact his heart was racing and he was practically bouncing with nerves. 

Though reasonably quiet, with the chatter in the seating area minimal due to the fact there were only three people present, the conversation spoken in a foreign language still managed to distract Minho from his quest. He tended to either be hyper-aware when he was excited and shut down when he was nervous. Luckily, he was excited enough for his senses to home in on the figure outside, pacing back and forth on the orange cobbles, or he may have thought that Jisung had left without him.

Minho’s mouth stretched up as he identified the deep brown hair sheltered by a black embroidered bucket hat, yellow shirt, and fidgeting fingers, before urging his tired legs forwards and pushing the glass doors open.

Jisung’s pacing came to an abrupt halt as the doors in front of him creaked open, and he immediately raised his head, scanning Minho’s face for a few seconds before a tentative smile formed, matching Minho’s own. “Hi.”

There was a brief moment of silence after Jisung’s shy greeting, long enough for Jisung to worry about the singular word he had said. The silence wasn’t broken by sound, unless you count the car passing them on the street, but instead an action; the action of Minho closing the space between them and wrapping Jisung into a tight embrace. 

Minho murmured, his mouth close to Jisung’s ear as he did so and only adding to Jisung’s shock. “ _ Hey _ .”

Jisung blinked, before reciprocating the hug, lacing his arms around Minho’s shoulders and contrasting where Minho had placed his own around Jisung’s waist. He knew Minho well enough to know that the other wasn’t a fan of expressing his affection explicitly, instead opting to show it in smaller ways, like the coffees he had brought Jisung on his workout days the week before the pause. 

Minho pulled away after a few more moments, his ears red and eyes crinkled in the corners, a rare sight for a man known for his deadpan expression.  _ Minho has really pretty eyes.  _ He had finally gotten used to Minho, and now he had to get used to him all over again. This may take a while. 

Jisung struggled to get his tongue to move, suddenly unsure of what to say. 

_I’ve missed you?_ _No, you don’t want to come on too strong, Jisung._

_ I’m so, so sorry.  _ Now apologising was something Jisung definitely planned on doing in the next few hours, but he feels that as soon as he starts apologising, he won’t be able to stop. 

_ Okay, well, something neutral then. A casual prompt.  _ “S-so, should we go?”

Minho nodded, a hand flying to his head to brush down his hair that was already perfectly in order. He took a series of backward steps towards the taxi bays, replying with a tone that assured Jisung that Minho was just as excited as he was. “That sounds good. Where are we headed?”

“That’s a surprise.”

Minho huffed as Jisung caught up to him, the younger’s hand brushing his as they faced the road where Jisung’s taxi would soon arrive. “Han, I already know that we’re going to get ramyun, you may as well just tell me.”

Jisung shook his head with a playful grin on his face, one that made Minho want to squish his cheeks. He realised that that would probably be overstepping, considering this is the first time he’s spoken properly to Jisung in a week, but it was so tempting. “Nope, you’ll find out when we get there.”

Instead of touching Jisung, Minho resorted to a technique that had been proven to be equally effective on the younger. “You’re adorable.”

Sure enough, Jisung went dead silent again at that, flustered enough that now  _ his  _ ears were going red. Minho smirked, slipping his hands back into the pockets of his light washed jeans. He had hoped that complimenting Jisung would get rid of the urge to touch, but it had definitely made it worse. 

Jisung strategically avoided making eye contact until his ears had calmed down, meaning that Minho was the one to break the silence. “Sorry-”

“No! I mean, no, it’s okay. You just- I don’t- ugh, I really like you, and hearing you say that makes me happy. And flustered.”

Minho’s eyes widened slightly at the confession that he had heard before, though this time it had caught him off-guard. It took him a few moments to remember that he had talked himself into believing that Jisung didn’t care about him at all, so to hear the Jisung in question state the complete opposite was jarring. His expression softened, even though Jisung’s eyes were fixed on the gutter. “I’m glad.”

Jisung tilted his head, and though still avoiding eye contact, Minho could see his reply in the gentle smile on Jisung’s face. The younger was nervous, but happy. 

The couple glanced up in disconcerting unison as another car approached, and Jisung’s shoulder bumped Minho’s as he bounced with excitement. “There’s our ride! You’re one step closer to the grand location reveal, Minho.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Hey, come on, I know you’re excited.”

Minho groaned as Jisung raised an eyebrow, his gaze resting hesitantly on Minho’s face as he walked back towards the curb closest to the approaching vehicle. “No, I’m serious. Dammit, I still sound sarcastic. But really.”

“It’s okay, I believe you, Lee.”

The taxi driver pulled up to a few feet away, and she stepped out as the car came to a stop and the electric doors opened automatically, meaning that Minho missed the opportunity to prove that he is just as chivalrous as he looks. She smiled as Jisung waved hello. “Hey!”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Han- Ah, Lee Know, right?”

Jisung slid into the back seat of the sleek black vehicle as the driver extended her hand to Minho, which he studied for a moment before deciding on a friendly approach. He shook it with a polite smile. “Yeah, that’s me.”

Okay, maybe not the friendliest approach, but it’s friendly in Lee Minho’s books and that’s all that counts. Despite the formal response, the taxi driver smiled all the same, a glint in her eye telling Minho that she knew something that she isn’t letting on. Before he grew too suspicious, she dropped his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Lee! Your performance yesterday was remarkable. Oh, and take a seat anywhere. There’s loads of room back there.”

Minho nodded, murmuring a thank you before eagerly climbing into the back of the almost-limousine and reuniting with Jisung on the polished leather seats. His eyes immediately widened at the size of the interior, not having expected it to be so large despite the advanced warning. It is not often that he is reminded that Jisung is, in fact, one of the richest if not the richest rookie in the world, but this is one of those times. “ _ Woah.” _

Jisung beamed at the open-mouthed awe on Minho’s face. “Pretty cool, right?”

“Pretty cool? This car is sick, Hannie. Where did you find it?”

Jisung looked more hesitant to answer this question, clearly self-conscious about the way he invested his extra AFO funds. “Well… me and Changbin may have been involved in customising it.”

As he buckled himself into the seat, Minho made sure to emphasise his reaction, knowing Jisung would feel more comfortable if he expressed his admiration to its full extent rather than dulling it down like he normally did. “That’s  _ brilliant _ . Did you work with the brand or…?”

The conversation about car design and manufacturing went on for longer than Minho had expected it would, after the initial prompting quickly developed into a natural conversation, one that Minho had missed. When Jisung was speaking naturally, his descriptions grew more and more dramatic, his dark eyebrows shifting expressively as he explained the concept with a passion.

Minho could listen to Jisung talking for hours without feeling the need to say anything. 

Their sneakers knock together occasionally, considering Minho had his legs stretched out, and they were facing each other in the limousine style seating. Eventually, the conversation digressed into a game of footsie that ended in  _ both _ of Jisung’s feet being trapped beneath Minho’s vibrant shoes. 

Jisung whined, his head hitting the leather of his seat and skewing his black bucket hat, knocking his dark hair into his face. A hand went to adjust it as he complained. “No fair, your feet are bigger.”

Minho shrugged. “I still won.”

Jisung pouted in defeat, his eyes dropping from Minho’s winner's face to the others' red sneakers. He grinned. “Hey, your shoes are the same colour as my brand.”

“Hmm? Oh, these were a gift from Hyunjin a couple years back, I wouldn’t have bought them in this colour.”

“And here I thought we truly were soulmates.” Jisung slumped back in his seat, going back to sulking at the second defeat in a matter of five minutes. “I don’t think we can date if you don’t support my favourite colour, Minho.”

“Red’s your favourite colour?”

“Well, yeah. I don’t wanna say  _ duh _ , but come on.”

“Oh, shut up. And just because I don’t think red is an ideal shoe colour, doesn’t mean I don’t like it. I think red’s a great colour.”

“Hmph. Prove it~”

Minho was already scheming, Hyunjin’s bleached blonde hair popping to the forefront of his mind before Jisung had even finished daring him.  _ Now  _ that’s _ an idea. _ “Hmm. I’ll think about it.”

Before Jisung could respond to the mysterious answer, the driver wound down the partition window in between the driver’s seat and the passenger area, something that probably should have been wound up the day that Jisung and Changbin argued. “We’re here, Mr. Lee, Mr. Han. 182 Avenue De La Plage, right?”

“That’s the one!”

Minho glanced away from Jisung, peering out the tinted windows to analyse the location that Jisung had insisted on being kept a secret, curious now that Jisung had exited the vehicle and was no longer distracting Minho with his presence. 

They were, as the name of the street alluded to, on the beachfront. Considering how much of Monte Carlo is bordering the ocean, Minho isn’t surprised at all; what’s more surprising about the setting is the fact that the shops that they had stopped alongside were sitting on an enormous pier that stretched out well into the bay and was surrounded by expensive boats and lighting arrangements. Minho could imagine this place would light up beautifully at night, even prettier than it looked now.

“What the heck, Jisung? How did you find this place with such short notice?”

Jisung helped Minho out of the car, offering a hand that the other took subconsciously as he continued to observe the stores on the pier. “I have my ways. Oh, and I… may have been planning this for two weeks now.”

Minho became aware of Jisung’s hand in his as the nature-defying car pulled away, leaving them on the grey footpath by the deep green railing that protected the rocky shore from the pedestrians on the street, and despite the instincts in his brain telling him that someone might see them, he couldn’t muster the willpower to pull his hand away. Jisung apparently shared the sentiment. 

“You… since the phone call?”

Jisung led the way as they walked, but he turned back slightly to smile weakly at Minho. “Yeah.”

Minho’s sneakers fell to the boardwalk in sync with Jisung’s worn ones as they approached the food area of the pier, passing souvenir stores and boutiques along the way. This pier appeared to be the hub for small businesses in Monte Carlo, Minho noted, and it made sense. The rest of the city was so rich, packed with corporate millionaires, car dealers, and of course, the royal family; it wasn’t really the place for up and coming entrepreneurs.

The mood had grown more sombre now that they were out of the car, and Minho was forced to remember the day before. Having his first-ever third place the day before, as well as Minho and him still not fully having addressed the split were valid reasons to be less vibrant than normal. 

Jisung’s pinched expression loosened slightly when he spotted the Korean food store. “Hey, there it is!”

Minho couldn’t help but grin as Jisung released his hand to speed up, dodging between a couple and someone’s dog so that he could open the door for Minho. He bowed slightly as Minho entered. “After you, your majesty.”

Although he felt slightly under-dressed to be accepting such a title, in a dark green sweater and baggy denim jeans, Minho played along. “Why thank you, bucket-hat boy.”

Jisung immediately went to grab his hat self-consciously; Minho didn’t have to be facing Jisung to know that. “Hey, do you have a problem with Daisy?”

Minho laughed incredulously. “You named your hat?”

“I- you...” 

As though realising that he was fighting a losing battle, Jisung pouted and elbowed passed Minho to the counter of the small shop, which was currently empty. Judging by the sizzling noises coming from the backdoor, the owner was preoccupied with cooking. Minho glanced around the store as Jisung studied the chalkboard menu, taking in the beach-themed aesthetic though disappointed that the store seemed to fit in with the rest of the European decor he had seen while here in Monaco. A small part of him had hoped that the interior of the store would hold a candle to the restaurants at home, but he supposed that he was just going to have to go back there himself once the Prix was over. The idea made him smile.

He took a seat at the single table in the store where it rested at the front of the store windows, and savoured the sunlight against his back, fiddling with his shell necklace.

Jisung eyed the bell on the countertop with caution, contemplating whether it would be rude or not to press it, but before he could debate for much longer, an older man in an apron entered through the doorway and blinked in surprise. He spoke in French, and Jisung worked as fast as he could to pick up words he recognised. “ _ Hello! Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in. How can I help you? _ ”

Well, at least Jisung understood the hello part. “Ah, we can’t… uh, Minho?”

As Minho began to stand to help Jisung in his moment of clear distress, the man interpreted Jiusng’s broken sentence. “Oh, English?”

Jisung’s body flooded with relief. “Yeah, that’s- thank you.”

The man pressed a hand to the sanitizer on the front desk and rubbed his hands together as he smiled. “It’s okay. What can I get you two?”

“Uh, Minho, what do you want?”

Minho shrugged, far more relaxed now that Jisung wasn’t panicking. “Jjajangmyeon?”

Jisung decided at that moment; he and Minho were going to make a great couple. “Two orders of jjajangmyeon would be great, please.”

The man nodded sagely, before leaning towards the register. “Wise choices. Do you want drinks with that…?”

. . .

After such a stressful three seconds, Jisung was quick to take a seat once their order was in place, slumping into the wicker chair across from Minho on the small glass table. He waited quietly for the man to slip back into the kitchen before he removed his bucket from his head and sighed running his hands through it. 

Minho leaned forward onto the table, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand to obscure his grin. “You okay, Han?”

Jisung tossed his hat weakly at Minho’s smug expression, so lightly that it fell short, dropping onto the table next to Minho’s elbow as Jisung rested the back of his head against the window. “Apparently not. Jeez, I’m probably not in the right state to be on a date with someone who makes my heart act up if I can hardly  _ order. _ ”

Minho’s grin faltered, only vaguely, but enough for it to be obvious in Jisung’s peripheral vision as he studied the roof. Minho presumably didn’t know what to say, remaining silent as he collected ‘Daisy’ into his hands so he could fiddle with the embroidery. 

Jisung recognised that he probably shouldn’t continue dodging around the conversation he had been planning to have all along, as much as he dreaded to taint the perfect afternoon with the mention of himself yet again. His gaze flitted from the sky blue ceiling to the clock on the far wall, summoning his courage before facing the beautiful Lee Minho. “We should- uh-”

Almost immediately, Jisung stuttered, as he properly studied Minho in the filtered sunlight for the first time that day. Minho sensed his gaze and raised his head to stare right back at him from beneath heavy lashes, his expression curious, and  _ warm _ \- something Jisung had somewhat taken for granted in past conversations, but was now beginning to realise the weight of. Lee Minho was not a naturally warm person.  _ You’re special to him, Jisung. Now prove to him that you’re not a self-obsessed prick and that he’s special too.  _

“-We should probably, you know, talk about me being a dick.”

Minho’s pretty, curious expression quickly morphed into something far more confused. He cocked his head to the side, causing his black hair to shift on his forehead. “Huh?”

“Wait- sorry, uh, what I meant was… I’m sorry about everything. About choosing racing over you so quickly. I’ve done a lot of thinking over the last two days and I know I’ve already apologised, but it was a shit apology cause I didn’t stop to think once about how my decision could have been interpreted beyond me just pushing you away. I want you to know that… well, yesterday stirred the realisation that I tend to develop tunnel vision-”

Minho fell back into his seat after trying to keep up with Jisung’s rapid talking for twenty seconds, his eyes closed as he shook his head. “Woah, woah, slow down, Hannie.”

Jisung could feel his face heating up. He whispered. “Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine I just… wasn’t expecting all that. I… it means a lot that you gave it more thought, Han. I expected you to- I don’t know, I figured you would just push it behind you and just keep racing forward.”

Jisung laughed quietly. “That would’ve been on brand.”

Minho smiled. “Yeah. So, thank you for apologising. I forgive you. Really.” After a moment, Minho replayed Han’s rushed apology back in his head and homed in on the last part. “You were talking about tunnel vision…?”

This response also surprised Jisung; the fact that Minho wanted him to finish his apology, even though his message had been transmitted somewhat effectively already. He cared about what Jisung felt about the situation, the same as Felix and Changbin did despite his selfish actions in the past. Jisung didn’t know how he had surrounded himself with good people. He was lucky.

He cleared his throat mutedly. “Uh, yeah. I just meant… sometimes, I get so absorbed in myself and my own aspirations that I forget that I need to be responsible for my words- and actions as well, I suppose. I got it into my head, during that race, that everyone was going to be devastated if I lost. Or not- not lost, I guess, but if I came anything other than first. Everyone was watching me, and I didn’t want to let them down.”

Minho didn’t know what to say in return to that- again, Minho wasn’t great with words. “I… I understand. That pressure. That’s why I hate seeing rookies being put on pedestals. It’s practically setting you up...”

Jisung murmured. “... to let people down. Damn. I had no idea that's why you didn’t like me in your interviews before we met. I thought you just hated the new competition.”

“I mean, that as well, but- ”

Jisung raised his voice, concluding his sharing session with a resolution. “I’m going to work really hard to be better at, well, not letting that kind of thing get to me. And… to be a better loser.”

“I wish you good luck,” Minho spoke the words in a tone that was faintly mocking, but Jisung could hear the happy undertones without even trying, “it’s a long road to drive, so you’ll need it.”

It was then that Jisung seemed to realise that Minho would understand this problem better than anyone else. A fallen champion, who made a mistake that could have cost him his life simply because he opted to continue pushing the limits instead of following an order and conceding just one place. 

Jisung leaned forward as he connected the dots, eyes widening. “You… we really aren’t all that different, are we?”

Minho shook his head, his lips pursed as Jisung came to the conclusion that he had been hinting at. “No, we aren’t. Now that I know you better… I see a lot of myself in you. Maybe that's why I like you so much.”

Jisung rolled his eyes. 

Smirking at his own joke, because of course he was, Minho continued. “But yeah. I’m glad you’re making the choice to try and change now. Before you crash and burn, like… as I did. It takes a lot away from you.”

The joking lilt in Minho’s tone tapered out towards the end of his sentence, and his eyes dropped from Jisung’s to the bucket hat that still sat in his hands. Jisung hesitated for a moment, before reaching out and slipping his hand over top of Minho’s surprisingly delicate one’s. His eyes shook slightly, shifting from the white flowers to settle on Jisung’s ringed fingers. 

Jisung lowered his voice, his words worried. “How was your yesterday?”

Minho sighed, turning over his right palm to hold Jisung’s hand properly. Butterflies built up in Jisung’s stomach against his will. “It was going pretty great actually until you spun out. I… it was really nice talking to you before the race, and I was in the right mood for it. Have you and Changbin done your debrief yet…?”

Grimacing, Jisung offered an affirmative  _ no _ . 

Minho glanced up and smiled, a little more than a quirk of his lips, but enough to show he was amused. “Yeah, neither. Well, I was fifth after passing Jordan early on, and then I pulled off a late break to pass the Chinese rep, one of the riskiest ones I’ve done in a while. It- it felt...”

He looked up, as though to check whether Jisung even cared about what he was saying any more, to find Jisung studying him closely, hanging off every word no matter how nondescript they were. Judging by the slight widening of Minho’s eyes, followed by his more confident tone, seeing Jisung listening, not politely but  _ actually  _ caring about his feelings encouraged him to continue. 

(Minho really needed to talk about his emotions with Seungmin more often. It’s surprisingly therapeutic.)

“It felt really good, actually. And I did well coming out of the pits later as well- and passed Haechan in my second-final lap. That is his name, right? The Canadian one?”

Jisung smiled and nodded. “Yeah, that’s him.”

“And well… yeah, that’s pretty much it. It went downhill from there. I kinda freaked out when you blew up right in front of me.”

Jisung grimaced for the second time, his fingers squeezing Minho’s hand as he remembered the feeling of his tires giving way beneath him and the horrific screech of metal against tar. “I’m so sorry I did that to you. God, last night I couldn’t stop imagining if I hadn’t braked once they burned out… I might’ve hurt you too. Were you-” he cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the lump building in it, “were you safe, after?”

Minho’s thumb traced lines up and down Jisung’s hand as he murmured. “Yeah, I think so. I don’t remember much. It’s… it was the worst breakdown I’ve had in a while. I’ve been getting better, but…”

As Minho exhaled slowly, the door at the back of the shop opened again, and a young woman suited up in a black apron came out holding two dishes that were presumably the jjajangmyeon. Her eyes, barely visible behind the glare of late afternoon sunlight, flitted from the bowls in her arms to the men's joined hands, and she made the executive decision to remain silent as she set the bowls down on the table hurriedly and exited to the room again.

Minho blinked as he withdrew his hand a minute too late. “Should we…?”

Jisung moved from his slouched position to stretch his arms behind his head, tilting his chair back to catch a glimpse of what the girl was doing through the glass window in the door. He understood the sentence before Minho had even finished it. “Maybe we can ask her not to share when she comes back with the sides. I’m not sure if they recognise us, though?”

Minho groaned, resting his head in his hands. “I really hope not.”

Jisung leaned forward to gently pat Minho’s head. “Don’t worry, I have this under control. Anyway, did you want to finish?”

Minho lifted his head, subconsciously following Jisung’s hand as the younger retracted it to move his bowl of steaming ramyun closer, before remembering the topic of discussion. He pulled a face. “Not really. It isn’t anything groundbreaking, anyway, it just means I’m going to feel like shit for a week or so.”

Jisung faltered from picking up his chopsticks, his expression morphing into a frown again. “That’s… that’s shit.”

Minho pursed his lips again. “Yeah.”

“I know it’s a typical thing to say, but… let me know if I can help, man. I’ll take you out every day if it makes you feel better.”

Minho laughed his high breathy tone just the same one that caused Jisung to start falling in the first place and stilling the younger in a second. He watched Minho with lovesick eyes as the older shielded his mouth, regaining composure. “That would be amazing, Jisung. Not realistic at all, but amazing.”

Jisung faltered for another few seconds, unable to snap his eyes away from Minho’s. “I- hey, a man can dream. But really… I’ll come and visit you- and I can ask Changbin to change my gym schedule so that we can work out together.”

“That’s… thank you, Hannie. I… would appreciate that a lot.”

With a wide, heart-shaped grin, Jisung replied. “It’s my pleasure.”

Minho attempted to hide the flush in his cheeks by ducking behind the steam rising from his ramyun, but Jisung noticed all the same. His smile remained on his face as the girl walked back out again, two more dishes in her hands and far more collected this time. 

As she leant down to set the plates of bread on the table, Minho murmured something to her to a low tone that meant Jisung could barely hear it but that didn’t stop him from narrowing his eyes.  _ I thought I said  _ I  _ had it under control. Ugh, this perfect idiot. Though I suppose I’m not in the position to talk. _

She nodded vigorously in response to whatever Minho had asked, and earned a tight-lipped smile from the statue of a man in the seat across from Jisung. Feeling bad for the girl, as her expression, despite still being well-composed contained traces of fear that were somewhat inevitable when you met Lee Minho for the first time. He cleared his throat to get her attention, before smiling. “Thank you so much for the food. It smells delicious.”

Straightening, the girl tucked a strand of pin-straight, black hair that had fallen from her ponytail back behind her ear, nodding her head at Jisung’s compliment. “I hope you enjoy it. I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

As she disappeared out the back again, Jisung raised an eyebrow at Minho. “What did you even say to her?”

Minho shrugged. “Nothing much. Just a threat or two, you know the drill.”

Jisung gaped. “You’re  _ evil _ .”

Minho smiled, picking up his chopsticks again and leaning down to take his first mouthful. “Thank you.”

. . .

The sun was drunk on the ocean by the time Minho and Jisung had had their fill, colouring the sky pink as it slowly fell below the horizon. Jisung marveled at the glittering waterline as they stepped back out onto the pier, closing the door lightly behind him and hoping that his thank you to the man who owned the store had been sufficient enough to compensate for their occupation of his shop for the entire afternoon.

“Wow.”

Minho turned back to look at Jisung, his hair tousled by the wind as he followed the younger’s gaze. Jisung found his eyes shifting to Minho almost as soon as he turned back, but his expression of awe didn’t change. 

Minho’s ears were lit up the same colour as the sky in the cold air, and Jisung stepped closer in order to offer his warmth, although he was the one in a t-shirt. The pier was much quieter now that the sun was setting, but the lighting features hadn’t deemed it dark enough for their presence to be necessary, much to Jisung’s disappointment. He was still mulling over the fairy lights lining the posts down from them when Minho’s hand slipped into his.

Jisung’s eyes darted back to his boyfriend and he quickly figured out that Minho had gotten bored of the sky, instead studying Jisung’s face with his ever-beautiful eyes. It was Jisung’s turn to blush, and he hid behind Daisy, tugging the rim down as Minho laughed. “Pink suits you, Hannie.”

Grumbling, Jisung dragged Minho’s hand with him as he stomped back towards the road. “Come on, our rides are waiting.”

Minho’s hand was warm. Jisung didn’t stay mad long. 

With the distinct lack of other voices, the rhythm of their footsteps against the solid wood of the pier was one of the few noises taking part in the comfortable silence, along with the quiet crashing of waves against the shore, and the ever-present noise of the supercars in the city painted pink by the fading light.

This was such a nice feeling. Jisung had missed Minho. A lot.

Jisung slowed down, so focused on trying to get his footstep in time with Minho’s that he was surprised when the older’s shoulder brushed his. Minho smiled. “I can hear you thinking, Hannie. What’s so loud in that tiny brain of yours?”

Jisung promptly let go of Minho’s hand, his deadpan saying a thousand words. “Well, I was  _ going  _ to say that I missed you, but-”

“I missed you too.”

Slowly, Jisung turned back to face Minho where the older had stopped moving. Minho held out his arms, and Jisung bit his lip, before wrapping him into a hug, far tighter than before. Minho was so warm, the cotton of his sweater soft against Jisung’s cheek, even though Minho’s shoulder was pointy beneath it. The older pressed a kiss to the side of Jisung’s head, so light that Jisung wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t hyperaware of Minho’s presence now that he was suddenly on the verge of tears. God, he was so tired, but there was nowhere else he’d rather be than Minho’s arms.

Minho’s hold shifted as he raised a hand to run through Jisung’s hair as though they were rested in a hotel room, rather than standing on a pier on a beach in Monte Carlo, surrounded by pink sunlight. His voice was deeper, throaty as he repeated himself. “I really have missed you, Hannie. Please stay safe.”

Jisung sucked in a breath of air, trying to ignore the fact his eyes were  _ very _ watery as he pulled away. “You too, Lee Minho. I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you now.”

Minho smiled sadly, wiping a tear from Jisung’s cheek. “Nothing stupid, I hope.”

Jisung laughed, raising a hand to rub his eyes dry as he backed up slightly, easing himself away from Minho rather than ripping off the bandaid all at once. “No promises. I’ll text you tomorrow, yeah?”

Minho nodded, slipping his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Sounds good. See you soon, rookie.”

Jisung smiled in response, afraid that his voice would crack if he tried to say goodbye despite the fact there really was no explanation as to why his brain considered this perfect afternoon a reason to cry. Maybe it was just because he was really fucking happy. Yeah, that made sense.

He didn’t look back at Minho until he got to his car, and when he did, it appeared the older had taken it upon himself to lean against his own ride until Jisung was safely in his vehicle. Jisung was growing very tired of perfect people. 

Minho stuck his tongue out as they made eye contact, followed by a mischievous grin, something Jisung would never get tired of seeing. 

Jisung stuck his tongue out in response because of course, he did. He’s the monster rookie. And as a part of his new approach to racing, he is giving up on impulse plays and is going to make plenty more calculated risks. A challenge from Lee Minho is one of those. 

  
_ It goes without saying that Lee Minho himself, however, is something much more special. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have used the word warm to describe Minho FAR too many times in this chapter but am i going to find a thesaurus? hmm... give me a year and i might make a decision
> 
> also, hand-holding 🥺🥺
> 
> anyways, im backkkk and with a chapter that i am still on the fence about- i really can't tell whether i like or dislike this return of minsung or not. i like the setting, but do i like the content? i figured i'd post it now and deal with these thoughts after i get your opinion on the matter. i'd like to add that the ending of this chapter may seemed rushed, and frankly, that's because it was- i'm leaving for my history exam in twenty minutes, so... good luck to me ig?
> 
> i really, really, hope that you guys like this chapter (you deserve a chapter to enjoy after waiting so long) and i hope to see you again soon!! more fluff is on its way before the finals :DD
> 
> stay safe <3
> 
> EDIT: i came back to read through the ending after my exam and i really wrote 'the soft cotton felt soft' and said yup seems good T.T rest assured, i will commence with editing IMMEDIATELY.
> 
> \------  
> instagram: oh_cxnada


	31. Euphoria

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not dead afterall~  
> hope you guys enjoy this long awaited chapter- oh, and happy 2021!!

Chan started at the sound of his ringtone filling the empty garage, the default alarm only being amplified by the metal walls and quickly drowning out the quiet music from his radio. If he hadn’t learnt his lesson the last time he had received a phone call while underneath a jacked-up car, he would have properly broken his nose this time. Luckily, Chan is the type to learn rather quickly from mistakes. Especially painful ones.

He studied the pipe woven deep into the undercarriage for a moment, before deciding it could wait a few minutes. Upon making the decision, he used his legs to propel the trolley, and consequently his entire body out from underneath the rusted baby blue matford he had picked up from the sale yard in town and was regretting purchasing more and more every time he found a new part that was going to have to be replaced. This lesson, of buying wrecked cars he thinks he can save himself but ending up having to ship in new parts that cost an arm and a leg, is one that apparently has yet to be learnt. 

Chan has a saviour complex that he has decided to leave unaddressed.

He wiped his hands on his basketball shorts as he approached the place where his phone was vibrating violently on the benchtop, tipping his head to the side to read the Caller ID. His face lit up when he identified the name, and he hurriedly abandoned his half-hearted attempts to clean his greasy hands to answer the video-call. 

“Jisung!”

Jisung was backlit by a window overlooking a seemingly quiet street in Monaco, the rising sun lighting up the sky behind him. Although his dark hair was hanging into his face, his t-shirt was rumbled so much so that the words on it were completely obscured, and his eyes (or the parts of them that were visible) were outlined with dark circles, Jisung looked happy. The younger’s smile grew to match Chan’s dimpled grin. “ _ Hey, Channie, how are you _ ?”

Chan leaned back against his bench, tugging the black beanie he had put on to protect his clean hair off as he answered. “Pretty good- well, not so busy. I got a new car to work on though!”

Jisung looked unsurprised by this news, shaking his head as the pixels on the screen struggled to keep up with his movement. Chan couldn’t complain- it was a surprise he had been able to connect to the phone call at all, considering how far away his friend was.  _ “You don’t need to be busy to be good, dude- have you named her yet?” _

Chan shook his head, contemplating the question. “Nah, I haven’t given it much thought. I’ll send you a photo though, and maybe you or Bin will have an idea.”

Jisung grinned toothily _. “That sounds great. Man, I can’t wait to get back to the Creek. I miss you, Chan.” _

Chan paused from ruffling his dark curls out of their beanie-inflicted state, to smile reassuringly back at Jisung’s tired face. “I miss you too, Ji. How are you? I heard about… you know. The crash.”

The mention of the Semi-Finals didn’t seem to affect Jisung as much as Chan had expected; although Chan had only had a single discussion with Changbin about what went down, Chan knew Jisung well enough to know that the younger felt things very strongly. Jisung had always reminded Chan a lot of himself; from the way the younger experienced emotion, to the way he tended to put an unhealthy amount of pressure on himself even in situations that held little consequence. Chan had thought this simple mistake would have bothered Jisung a lot, but the younger appeared almost unphased, other than the slight frown that developed as he explained.

_ “I’m actually… I’m good. It’s a really long story, to be honest, but I’ve definitely done a significant amount of growing in the past two days.” _

“Long story? I’m all ears.”

_ “Are you sure? It’s like… very- well, I don’t know, but it’s a journey.” _

Chan is normally more the gentle encouragement type, but he was far too curious to be patient right now. He and Jisung hadn’t spoken in weeks now; the only sides of the story he knew about the crash and the aftermath were the sliders fed to him by Felix and Changbin- he had yet to hear Jisung’s perspective. “The suspense is killing me.”

_ “I can stall for the next three hours if you’re going to be like that, Christopher.” _

Chan mimed zipping his mouth close as he broke eye contact to manoeuvre around the front of the matford to prop himself up on the black stool on the other side. He turned of his radio as he did so, in preparation for the grand retelling. Jisung had probably missed the signal of silence, considering how much Chan had moved his phone-holding-hand around to reach his destination, but the younger didn’t seem to mind. 

He started from the argument with Changbin before preliminaries, and Chan slowly grew more and more distraught as Jisung detailed the steadily intensifying events that had taken place in the past month and a half. By the time Jisung reached yesterday morning on his mental timeline, Chan was flooded with relief, slumped back into the metal frame of the stool. “Good god, thank goodness for Changbin. I’m glad you were able to work it out with Felix, Jisung. Did you meet up with Minho in the end?”

Jisung, who was now lying down on the window seat pillow, bathing in the morning sunlight, smiled hesitantly up at his phone _. “Yeah, we went on a ramyun date and stuff _ .”

Chan’s face crumpled, and Jisung immediately began to protest the older’s slew of compliments. “Jisungie, you two are so cute,  _ ahh _ , my heart can’t take it-”

_ “Oh be quiet, you’re so  _ old _ , Chan-” _

Chan was silenced by the sound of a door opening on Jisung’s end, and the younger’s panicked expression as he flicked his gaze to where Chan presumed the doorway of the hotel room resided.

Chan’s breath caught in his throat until Jisung’s expression shifted into a mocking smile.  _ “Ooo~ Changbinnie’s back from spending the night with his angel. How’d you sleep, Mr Kim?” _

Dare Chan say that Jisung was a hypocrite.

Despite this, Chan snorted as Changbin’s throaty morning voice travelled through the speaker of his phone. _ “Morning, Jisung. And Chan, I presume.” _

Chan laughed, as although he couldn’t see Changbin’s already finished-with-the-day expression, he could definitely picture it. “Morning, Bin. How’re you today?”

Jisung blew a kiss off-screen to Changbin as his reply to the good morning wish, and Chan was disoriented by Jisung’s phone being taken out of the young racer's hands. When the camera steadied, Chan found his new perspective gave him a far better view of the hotel room, propped up on the top of a bed. Changbin smiled at him from where he now sat cross-legged on the end of the mattress.  _ “I’m good, actually. You?” _

Chan talked over Jisung’s complaining, trying not to laugh as the others' hands appeared at the edge of the screen as Jisung tried to bridge the gap between the window seat and the bed to get to his phone. 

“I’m pretty good too. I got a lot done on the new car, but probably would have gotten up earlier this morning if I had known Jisung was gonna call,” Chan spoke his next words bitterly, even though he had long since established to Jisung that Chan should never be his top priority, “But I just assumed he wouldn’t, considering how long he’s ignored me for.”

_ “I have  _ not _ ignored you, Bang Chan, we just talked about this!” _

Changbin ignored Jisung, shrugging. “ _ Yeah, I guess he’s been a little preoccupied recently or something. It’s okay though, you always have me _ .”

Chan’s eyes softened. “Thanks, Bin. You’ve got me too, yeah?”

Changbin nodded, the look in his eyes telling Chan that he understood the weight of Chan’s words. Changbin was good like that. 

Apparently having picked up on the sarcasm, Jisung had stopped defending himself and gone back to flailing his hands at the edge of the screen again. “ _ Ugh  _ Changbin _ , move it closer, I’m not in shot. _ ”

The sincerity in Changbin’s eyes disappeared, replaced by the playful fondness that always presented itself when Changbin was with Jisung. Chan and Changbin had discussed it before; they really didn’t know where they would be today without their younger brother. He can be reckless sometimes, volatile as was evident in the events of the past few days, but man, did he always give everything maximum effort. And maximum reaction, when it came to teasing. The kid didn’t know when to give up.

_ “Maybe if you slept at reasonable hours of the night, you would be able to move it yourself, Jisung.” _

Jisung’s voice was indignant.  _ “How would you know what time I went to bed!? You were with Seungmin-” _

_ “You texted me at 3 am and it woke both of us up!” _

Jisung floundered.  _ “What? Oh yeah, I did. But- uh that doesn’t ma-” _

Chan cleared his throat, earning silence from the other end of the call. Changbin looked back at the phone with a guilty expression on his face, brushing his dark hair from his eyes _. “Sorry, Chan. What were you saying?” _

“ _ Now you’re sorry, huh- _ ”

The younger cut himself off as Changbin narrowed his eyes at him, and Chan laughed. “I wasn’t saying anything, actually. But…”

Chan cast a glance out at the now completely dark outside world. He had realised a significant amount of time had passed since the call started, as his beanie had found its way back onto his head, and his bare legs had been hugged to his chest to maintain warmth, but he had no idea that the moon was high in the sky. He sighed. “... I think I should probably lock up soon. I’m heading to the studio at 5 tomorrow- today, actually.”

Jisung appeared at the back of the frame, the younger hugging a sheet to his chest as he dropped himself down next to Changbin’s crossed legs on the mattress. He pouted _. “I don’t wanna say goodbye yet-” _ the younger’s expression changed slightly as he seemed to consider his words; Chan wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen Jisung this aware of his words _ , “-but it sounds like you definitely need rest, Channie. Make sure to sleep early tomorrow!” _

Chan smiled sheepishly. They all knew that sleep wasn’t exactly Chan’s forte. “I… I mean I’ll think about it, I guess but I can’t make any promises.”

Changbin rolled his eyes, the hand that rested on the thigh of his grey sweats, shifting subconsciously to adjust Jisung’s tragically messy hair as he addressed Chan.  _ “Well, you are Jisung’s mentor after all. Is it a racer thing, to avoid sleep at all costs?” _

Chan laughed, resting his head on top of one of his knees. “I think it's just a human thing, or at least some of us anyway. Well… say hi to your boyfriends for me. Oh, and good luck for training for Finals, you two.”

Jisung smiled, despite the fact he probably couldn’t see right now with Changbin’s hand sorting his fringe _. “Love you, Channie. I’ll call again when I get some free time.” _

Changbin waved.  _ “Buh-bye.” _

Chan’s smile hurt his cheeks as he returned the sentiments and hung up the phone. As the call went silent, he realised just how quiet it was in the garage. It was barren of all sound, aside from nocturnal sounds outside, and the creak of his stool as he dropped his legs from his chest.

With his hands in desperate need of a proper clean, Chan placed his phone back on the cluttered benchtop and exhaled. Time to go home.

. . . 

** minho <<33 **

_ jisungie _

_ meet me and hyunjin at the intersection near the gym at 10 tonight _

_ [delivered 12:34 AM] _

. . . 

Minho leant against the streetlamp, and because of the light source, Hyunjin was exposed to his friend’s deeply-in-love smile as he read a text on his phone. Feeling as though he was intruding on something private, Hyunjin turned his eyes to the junction and the traffic lights that seemed to remain stuck on red even though cars were few and far between.

“He’s nearly here.” Minho’s smile faded from its effervescent state as he spoke himself back to reality, but it certainly didn’t disappear. 

Hyunjin hugged his coat closer, teeth chattering dramatically even though he wasn’t feeling the cold so much this evening. “ _ Good _ , cause I’m ready to head back.”

Minho glanced at the rented car sitting on the sidewalk as he spoke. “Thanks for all the help, Jin. I- it’s so hard to not hit you when you’re smiling like that.”

Hyunjin’s smug grin only grew wider. “No, no please continue. Keep thanking me. Tell me all about how you’re useless when it comes to romance and I am Aphrodite herself, a god among lovesick fools-”

Minho’s gaze steeled, his expressive eyes narrowing into a glare and Hyunjin quickly realised he may have gone too far. He yelped as Minho stepped towards him menacingly, pushing up off the street lamp as Hyunjin cowered in fear. Before Minho could get his hands on Hyunjin, Jisung’s voice rang out around the empty intersection.

“Uh, am I interrupting something?”

Hyunjin straightened immediately, collecting himself in the hopes that he hadn’t just completely made a fool of himself in front of the current best racer in America. Minho also had an instantaneous reaction to Jisung’s voice, though he was much more comfortable. “No, no, Hyunjin’s just being dumb.”

Jisung was smaller than Hyunjin had expected, maybe around the same height as Minho, but just like his best friend, Jisung had a certain aura to make up for what he lacked in size. The racer seemed to radiate positivity and just, well racing spirit, Hyunjin supposed, even as he stood beneath the bloom of the streetlamp in an oversized denim jacket, cuffed jeans and high checked socks, about as far from his red bodysuit as he could possibly be. 

Hyunjin was starstruck, to say the least, and he most certainly didn’t appreciate being called dumb in front of Han Jisung. He cleared his throat as Jisung raised an eyebrow, and offered a hand. “I assure you, Minho’s the dumb one. We’ve spoken before but… I’m Hwang Hyunjin.”

Jisung didn’t leave Hyunjin hanging, offering a charming smile as he shook his hand. “There’s no harm in re-introduction. Han Jisung. And I don’t doubt Minho’s the dumb one- you seem fairly intelligent.”

Hyunjin laughed, before cautiously covering his mouth and waiting for Minho to protest. The protest never came, and Hyunjin remembered that his friend was, as stated early, completely and utterly in love with the man in front of them. This thought was only reaffirmed by Minho’s fond eyeroll and open arms that Jisung quickly threw himself into. 

Hyunjin cleared his throat as Minho secured his hold and murmured something into Jisung’s ear. “Uh, so, I’m going to head back now, but enjoy yourselves, I guess?”

Minho promptly released Jisung upon realising that his friend was still present, but before he could bid farewell to Hyunjin, Jisung spoke. “Oh- you’re leaving? Why were you here then?”

Hyunjin frowned at the racer’s confused tone. He looked to Minho, who had taken a step back into the full bloom of the street light. “You didn’t… what has Know told you, exactly?”

Jisung tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “To meet you guys here?”

“And…?”

Jisung smiled sheepishly, as though he knew what was coming. “That’s it.”

“That’s it?!”

“Well, yeah.”

Hyunjin looked to Minho. “Once again, I have no  _ idea _ how I’m the only single member of this friend group. You didn’t even tell him it was a date?”

Minho shrugged, the expression on his face so blasé Hyunjin wanted to cry. Jisung, on the other hand, hid his heart-shaped grin behind his hand. “It didn’t seem like important information.”

Hyunjin groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I- have a nice evening, Jisung.”

Jisung gave up hiding his smile as Hyunjin started off towards the hotel, and Hyunjin couldn’t help but laugh along with him. 

Minho raised his voice, and although Hyunjin was no longer looking back at them, after years of experience he could easily picture the puzzled expression on Minho’s face. “What did I do?”

Judging by the fact that Jisung had turned up to the location, all the same, Hyunjin could assume that it didn’t bother him that Lee Minho could be the least romantic person in the world at times. Maybe Jisung even loved him for it.

. . .

Jisung snorted. “So what I’m getting from this is that Hyunjin is the mastermind behind this entire venture.”

Minho, being the responsible driver he is, didn’t take his eyes off the road as he protested. “Hey, hiring a car  _ hardly _ makes him a mastermind.”

“Well, you just said that he also helped you pick a location, and made the playlist and set up the rendezvous-”

It was easy to see even in the dark, nothing lighting up the vehicle other than the inbuilt screen and the occasional yellow street light that Minho was holding back a smile. “Okay, okay, I get it. But I came up with the original idea!”

“I’m sure you did, and I’m proud of you.” Jisung subconsciously patted Minho’s thigh across the centre console as a form of comfort, before realising what he was doing and withdrew his hand. “Sorry.”

Minho went dead silent for a moment, and Jisung didn’t dare look at him. Then Minho spoke in a flustered tone. “You don’t need to apologise. It’s… I liked it.”

Jisung might just explode. “Cool.”

Carefully, Jisung rested his ringed fingers back on Minho’s thigh, and a somewhat awkward silence followed. It settled after a while, as Minho turned the volume up on the playlist Hyunjin had put together, and Jisung finally paused to observe his surroundings, the setting outside of the car. 

They were on the outskirts of Monte Carlo now and Jisung was surprised how quickly they had managed to get there, though he supposed that travelling at night tended to be much easier than during the day. Although they were exiting city limits, the coral-roofed houses seemed to have no plan on fading into the hillsides. Jisung may even go as far as to say there were almost more houses than there were in the most populated areas of Monte Carlo; the city’s central business district appeared to just be the entire city.

The roads merged soon after the streetlights began to thin, and Jisung found himself turning his gaze from the dark hillsides to the sky above, that was still murky from city smog but all-encompassing all the same. He spent a few minutes trying to pick out constellations from the mass of grey clouds and deep black sky above him, and only paused when he felt the tickle of a gaze on the side of his cheek. 

He turned to face Minho, and the moon that was rising over the ocean on Minho’s side of the car, and the other met his gaze steadily. Jisung resisted the urge to do something childish, and pull a face (god knows he’s done that enough), and instead chose the far more mature option of tugging the denim of his jacket up to hide his rapidly reddening cheeks and whining loudly. “Hey, keep your eyes on the road, Minho, you’ll crash the car.”

Minho seemed to savour the flustered reaction, as he spoke in a simpering tone. Jisung hoped he was watching the road, but he didn’t dare show his face again until his cheeks were cooler. “But Hannie, I can’t  _ bear _ to take them off of you~”

Jisung decided he needed to draw a line, and dropped his collar before frowning as threatening as he could. He withdrew his hand from Minho’s thigh to form a fist. “I’ll hit you if you don’t stop.”

Minho’s eyes were indeed back on the road, but the smug smile on his face told Jisung that Minho was still winning. The older hummed over the music. “Hmm… I don’t know about that. You’re not a very intimidating person, Han.”

“I don’t have to be intimidating to cause serious damage!”

Minho pouted around his words condescendingly. “Aw, you’re so cut-  _ ow, shit _ \- yeah, I deserved that.”

Jisung, satisfied, tucked his prized pinching fingers beneath his arm as he crossed them across his chest. “You did. Now- where are we, exactly?”

Minho’s one-handed grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly as he used his other hand to pull up the GPS again. His dark eyes flickered to the screen for a moment before shifting back to the road as he answered. “Well, I can’t pronounce the road name, but we’re nearly there.”

“And where is ‘there’?”

Minho smiled. “It’s called a surprise for a reason, Jisung.”

Jisung slumped deeper into the seat. “Lame.”

“You’re lame.”

“ _ Hey! _ ”

The pointless and frankly half-hearted bickering went on for the next five minutes, only pausing when they reached a carpark at the top of the hill. Jisung looked away from Minho’s frustratingly beautiful side profile to observe the location. His eyes widened at the view, as the ebb and flow of the ocean glittered in the moonlight. “ _ Woah _ .”

Minho pushed the stick into park, before grinning at Jisung’s awed expression. “Pretty cool right? It’s even better from the water’s edge.”

Jisung’s expression grew even more awed. “We’re going down? Dude, hurry up, let’s go!”

Minho laughed as Jisung practically jumped out of the passenger seat in excitement, immediately running through the empty carpark to the dark walkway down the hill. He was quick to follow, but he certainly wasn’t going to try and keep up with the rookie. 

To his surprise, Jisung turned back to face him after descending a few steps, apparently realising his boyfriend was also headed to the same location. The moon backlit his figure as he offered a hand, which Minho studied fondly before threading his own fingers through. Jisung beamed at him. 

Jisung lead the way down, the gravel staircase lit by the occasional solar light was too narrow to fit the two of them, but he didn’t leave Minho behind as he had expected. Maybe Minho had been too quick to judge. Jisung wasn’t the same off the track as he was when he was in racer mode. Minho was beginning to realise that.

“ _ Woah. _ ”

Jisung repeated as they reached the bottom of the lengthy staircase, staring open-mouthed at the rocky pier that extended out into the calm ocean. Minho subconsciously squeezed his hand. “You like it?”

“ _ Yes.  _ I thought that was obvious?”

Minho shrugged. “Just checking. It’s nice to hear I’ve done it right.”

Without warning, Jisung leaned up and pressed a kiss to Minho’s cheek. Minho stiffened, already blushing. Jisung grabbed his other hand before he lost his confidence. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect, Minho.”

The word  _ perfect _ had always bothered Minho, especially when used to describe people. He physically couldn’t feel frustrated right now, with Jisung’s hands in his own, and his kiss lingering on his cheek, but he still wanted to voice his feelings about it. “Thank you, but I hate to break it to you, Jisung; perfection isn’t real.”

Jisung released his hand as he considered this, raising an eyebrow. “Well… yeah. That’s fair. What do you want me to call you then?”

Minho was confused.

Jisung snorted at the puzzled expression on his boyfriend’s face, releasing his hand and taking a few steps backward towards the pier as he asked mischievously. “You need a nickname, Lee. Does angel work for you?”

Minho pulled a face. “Oh god, you’re just as bad as Hyunjin.”

Jisung laughed, loudly and unrestrained. Minho couldn’t say it was  _ pretty _ as such, but that didn’t mean he didn’t love the sound. “- Hyunjin is going to be my best friend, I can just tell.”

Minho was not a fan of that idea at all. “Let’s hope not. Now, come on, I didn’t bring you here to talk about Hyunjin.”

Upon closer observation, there  _ were _ waves around the cape, but they weren’t disruptive, crashing quietly against the sides of the rock outcrop as Jisung practically skipped to the end. Minho followed with one hand in the pocket of his hoodie, the other holding his phone flashlight in front of him in the hopes it would illuminate Jisung’s path further. 

Jisung danced to a stop as he reached the edge of the pier, spinning back to face Minho and hugging his denim jacket closer to his body as he waited for Minho to catch up. His hair was tossed from his face by the offshore wind, the crisp cold seeping through the holes in his jeans and pressing against his bare neck. 

Minho lowered his flashlight, smiling as he stopped a few feet away from the edge. “Where are you headed now?”

Although it was dark, and Minho probably couldn’t see his expression, Jisung pursed his lips and hummed as he considered his options. “Well, I  _ was _ thinking about swimming. Now’s a good time… join me?”

Minho turned his gaze from his boyfriend to the dark waters that almost looked sharp as they hit the rocks around them and shook his head definitively. “Yeah, no thanks. Maybe in an alternative universe, but certainly not this one.”

Jisung grinned. “It’s rather fitting that you’re a cat dad as well as a scaredy-cat.”

Offended, Minho leapt to defend himself. “Hey, I’m not a scaredy-cat! I just don’t like swimming that much, and especially not at night.”

Playing with him, Jisung continued hugging his sides but closed the gap between them with long, (very graceful), exaggerated steps. Minho narrowed his eyes as Jisung stopped a few centimetres from his face. “Okay, I believe you, angel.”

Minho couldn’t think of anything witty to say in return with Jisung’s face so close to his own, his angry gaze quickly faltering. Desperately trying to look anywhere other than Jisung’s lips, his eyes fell on where Jisung was hugging his jacket to his body. He frowned. “Are you cold, Hannie?”

Jisung didn’t think Minho would notice that. “Uh… a little?”

“Here.” 

Before Jisung could say anything, Minho had tucked his phone into his pocket and began taking off his hoodie, exposing his fitted black t-shirt beneath and Jisung immediately recognised that Minho was going to be just as cold as he was without it. “Hey, no, no put that back on, you’ll get cold. I have a jacket already, I’ll be okay-“

Minho tucked his top back in and offered his hoodie to Jisung. Jisung didn’t need to have a light on to see the stubborn look in Minho’s eyes, and he had a feeling that it would be a harder time trying to get this man to put the hoodie than it would be to convince him he didn’t need it, so Jisung settled for rolling his eyes and accepting the gift. “Fine. You want my jacket?”

“Well… yes. Thanks.”

Jisung laughed at that, shedding his jacket as Minho purposefully distanced himself from the space where he had spoken so softly, walking to the other side of the outcrop. The light wash of Jisung’s oversized denim jacket glowed in the moonlight, still warm as Jisung awkwardly squirmed into the vast, black warmth of Minho’s hoodie while simultaneously trying not to drop his own jacket onto the wet surface below. 

Fortunately for his dignity, he managed to safely perform the exchange, smiling to himself as he hugged the soft material of Minho’s hoody to his admittedly cold skin before making his way over to Minho. The other was clearly doing his best to look contemplatively out over the ocean and not his freeze his ass off. Jisung rested the jacket around his shoulders to bring Minho back to the present, and his boyfriend barely jumped. Maybe a little flinch, but not a jump, of course. Minho would never.

The jacket fit Minho better than it fit Jisung, but was still oversized; Jisung didn’t often think about it, but he and Minho were pretty much the same size in height- yeah, maybe Minho had a broader chest than him, but Jisung was going to choose now as a good time to finally agree with Changbin. Jisung  _ was _ only twenty; he had plenty of time to catch up. 

“So, Lee, where to from here, hmm?”

Minho reached a hand out to wipe some spray from Jisung’s face as he replied absentmindedly. “Well, I didn’t have other locations lined up, but I  _ do  _ have carefully selected snacks in the car based off conversations we had last month and your Wikipedia page.”

Jisung, who had settled fully into the palm of Minho’s soft hands, grinned. “To the car, then.”

As they headed back up the hill, their hands naturally intertwined again, and Jisung rested them in the pocket of Minho’s hoody, hoping to warm up Minho’s colder hands. As he did so, running his finger over the back of his boyfriend’s hand as he led the way with his phone flashlight in his other hand, he came to another realisation.

Jisung pouted over his shoulder at Minho. “Even your  _ hands _ are pretty, this isn’t  _ fair _ .”

Minho blinked, before rubbing it in with his stupidly pretty, floaty giggle that Jisung couldn’t bring himself to get mad at. Minho hadn’t regained his composure as he replied with a smile evident in his voice. “Thank you?”

“No problem,” Jisung grumbled, as he went back to carefully watching the stairs ahead of them, though continued to warm Minho’s hand as the other kept up with ease, “you know, at least they’re kinda small, like mine. Hm… that’s it! They’re like cat paws.”

Minho snorted. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to reply to that.”

Jisung gasped, his hood following off of his head as he stopped abruptly to share his epiphany. “ _ Dude. _ You’re literally a cat. Changbin must be right about this whole spirit animal thing, though he’s clearly not right about  _ mine- _ “

Curious, Minho encouraged the thought. He never really cared much about spiritual or philosophical concepts, even after spending most of his teen years with Hyunjin and Hyunjin’s mother who had what Minho would dub an unhealthy obsession with zodiac signs, but Jisung had a tendency to make any conversation interesting. “And what exactly did he say yours was?”

Jisung muttered something under his breath, before starting to move again, and Minho let himself be dragged onward, though repeated his question. “Sorry, Hannie, what was that?”

“A squirrel.”

Minho paused. 

Then he had to open his mouth. “Oh my god. That’s… that’s amazing.”

Jisung promptly released Minho’s hand and began marching up the hill. Minho followed after he stopped laughing, not wanting Jisung to leave his sight. “Sung, slow down, you’ll hurt yourself- shit, where’s my phone-”

Jisung safely reached the carpark long before Minho did, but the older wasn’t surprised to see that the racer had waited patiently at the top of the stairwell, despite his earlier disdain. Minho hesitantly held out his arms as a form of apology, unsure of how Jisung would react due to the shadow his hood had reapplied to his face as they stood in open moonlight. Jisung didn’t wait long before toddling into Minho’s arms like the squirrel he was.

Minho smiled into Jisung’s shoulder as he leaned down. “I’m sorry for agreeing that your spirit animal is a squirrel.”

Jisung gasped, pulling back, and knocking the hood from his face, hands still linked around Minho’s shoulders. “You  _ agree?! _ I thought you just thought it was funny!”

Minho’s hands adjusted themselves on Jisung’s waist as he tilted his head. “Jisung, are you telling me that you don’t see the resemblance?”

Flaring up for a moment before deflating back into Minho’s arms, Jisung sighed. “No, it kinda makes sense but... squirrels aren’t scary  _ or _ handsome.”

Minho hummed, swaying gently as Jisung tucked his head into the crook of his neck. “I think you’re handsome, Jisung. And scary sometimes, too. But you’re also cute, and small.”

Jisung made a sound of protest, before thinking about it for a moment. “I… I guess it’s not so bad then.”

Minho nodded, moving a hand from Jisung’s waist comfortingly. He didn’t think he needed to say much else and was proved right by Jisung perking up enough to press a cheeky kiss against his neck and slipping away before Minho could return it. “Oh- hey, get back here-“

Jisung turned from skipping toward the rented car to blow a kiss. “I’m going to beat you back if you don’t catch me~”

Minho accepted the challenge, which was something Jisung clearly wasn’t planning to happen because he was overtaken in seconds. Minho jogged to a stop in front of the car, arms wrapping around him seconds later confirming that if Jisung hadn’t been so cocky and skipped half the way, he probably would have beat him. Minho’s isn’t much of a sprinter; unless he’s on a treadmill, he prefers to let the car do the running for him. 

He opened the door that he fell against, and gestured for Jisung to enter once the younger had defeatedly released him. “Your majesty.”

Jisung smiled sweetly. “Why thank you, angel.”

Minho sighed disappointedly at the nickname, but he couldn’t exactly complain. “I’ll grab the snacks from the back- you can sort out the playlist if you want.”

“Don’t you want a prize for coming first?”

Minho stiffened at that, freezing where he leaned against the inner side of the door. He eyed Jisung’s mischievous expression cautiously. “And what might that be?”

Before he could say anything else, Jisung gently cupped his jaw, guiding him down into a kiss. Jisung’s lips were salty, a result of sea air and ocean spray, but they were warm against Minho’s and he couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, a sense of euphoria escaping into his bloodstream. 

He released the car door, subconsciously shifting closer to Jisung just as the other pulled back, eyes sparkling with the same sense of happiness Minho could feel throughout his body. He whispered. “Now, go and get those snacks, Lee.”

Minho brushed a strand of hair from Jisung’s face, before pulling back into the cold night air, smiling harder than his face was used to. He saluted. “Yessir.”

Hyunjin must have good music taste, as the entire duration of the trip back to Monte Carlo was spent with the radio turned up and yelling the lyrics they knew at the top of their lungs. It wasn’t a good night to live on Avenue de la Côté d’Azur, but it was certainly a good night to be Jisung and Minho.

. . . 

Jisung was still smiling ear to ear as he let himself into his hotel room at 3:00 in the morning, buzzing with happiness from the evening’s perfect escape. In fact, the smile didn’t fade from his face even as he got changed into his sleepwear, and crawled into the bed next to Changbin’s.

As Jisung buried himself in the voluminous blankets, many thoughts floated through his head, and after some sorting, he realised that many of them connected to a singular fact.

Jisung had never, ever felt this way about someone before. This sense of euphoria is something rare and special, yet this wasn’t the first time he had felt it spending time with Minho. Minho’s laughter was his favourite sound in the entire world. Jisung could have spent the rest of the year on that beach with Minho- probably not longer, as he had racing to come back to, but as far as Jisung was concerned, that was a pretty fucking long time. 

Adding this notion to the growing stack of daydreams about their future together, the realisation that came after the thought was hardly a surprise to Jisung.

There was no doubt about it.

Han Jisung was in love with Lee Minho.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all KNOW i couldn't write the finals before i had 3racha moment and minsung beach scene <3
> 
> ayyyy 😎 that's right, im alive and still making progress on concluding this chaotic emotional rollercoaster of a fic  
> hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! ive actually had it done since the 23rd of December but the place where we spent our holidays had zero wifi so 😃 im just crossing my fingers and hoping it was worth the wait hhhh
> 
> also!! for those who don't follow on Instagram, i made an announcement a couple weeks ago revealing i have a seungbin fic in the works~~~ i did also say that i planned on posting the first part early February but its probably going to be late February/early march at this point... please look forward to it all the same awfasahdjsahd  
> i really like it so far, and i hope you will too :)
> 
> see you guys... at some point with the two finals chapters and thank you for always staying patient :D
> 
> stay safe!
> 
> \-----  
> instgram: oh_cxnada


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